Beasts fear Men, Men love beasts
by Lucy913
Summary: A monster of great power and evil has arrived in the fair city of Toussaint, and no one but the White Wolf can stop this monster that strikes fear into the hearts of Men. Only the White Wolf can stop this monster that gives men reason to fear beasts; afterall Beasts are but a scapegoat to the true evil of Men. Perhaps, a bit of truth, love, and wine is best. - Regis, Dettlaff, OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! This is the first chapter (And Prologue) of my Fanfic for the Witcher! In fact, it is actually my first Witcher Fanfic! It will be set in the DLC Blood and Wine, using the Storyline and characters, as well as my own character who I've worked on for a bit. She will be the Protagonist of this story, which I'm pretty excited about.**

 **I'm a pretty big fan of the Witcher and have been for a few years now, I've read the first Novel "The last Wish" and loved it, and have also played all the games, Witcher 3 is actually one of my Favourite games of all time. I plan on reading all the novels in the franchise, and am kind of mad at myself for not doing it sooner haha**

 **Anyhow, I hope that whoever reads this will enjoy it! I would love for you to leave a review or Pm if you do in fact like this little chapter, or have any opinions at all! I love seeing things like that, it's good to get feedback! Thank you for stopping by, and I hope you all have a lovely morning/day/night!**

 **PROLOGUE**

Toussaint, a vast vassal duchy of Nilfgaard. The rich and beautiful land of fables, a land of love and wine … is ever expanding with peoples of all ethnicities and homes, for word travels far. Tales of courageous Knights errant following their moral codes, protecting and helping those in need, extravagant fashion, and arrays of colors adorning citizens wherever they go. Exquisite wine, made from unbelievable vineyards.

Beauclair the capital of the evergreen province, filled with minstrels, Lords, and baronesses, handsome heroes waiting for a damsel in distress, and all things magical, never could one think of such soil to be soaked with not wine, but blood. However, blood on its soil is what brings a certain Witcher to the peaceful kingdom, for a beast haunts the public, a monstrosity threatens the lives of common folk …

A monster of great power and evil has arrived in the fair city, and no one but the White Wolf can stop it. Or perhaps, the offering of love could save the land of Blood and Wine from the Beast of Beauclair …

 **AUBREY DE LA SAVANT**

The sun had just awoken to illuminate the land; buildings and structures echoed shadows and vivid colors of light. Birds twittered and tweeted, amongst the green trees.

She couldn't help but fixate her concentration down on the streets of Beauclair, as she leaned heavily with fatigue against the stone railing. People were now just leaving their houses, whilst some were already working hard, strolling or trotting to their places of work, markets, and merchants setting up their stock. After sneakily watching the citizens of the city, she adjusted her beige blouse under the leather belt that held countless herbs, potions, and scrolls.

'Aubrey,' The demanding yet polite tone grasped her utmost attention as she spun quickly to focus her attention on the Duchess. 'I am glad you could make it on time, I sincerely apologize for bringing you here at such early hours of the morning, however, we have important matters to discuss.'

'Your Grace, you need not apologize, I am always at your service.' Aubrey replied with great respect, bowing her head, initiating dark blonde strands of hair to fall from a lazily done up do. The Duchess smiled in appreciation, walking to the left of Aubrey, watching her people with great pride yet guilt.

'My friend, you know you are permitted to call me by name when it is just us … anyhow, that is not what I wished to discuss. My people are in grave danger, and as you have heard, I requested for the Witcher's help to resolve this danger we face … his arrival should be quite soon I hope, for I sent my best Knights to find him.' Her eyes leaving the city, reaching Aubrey's brown ones, 'However, we cannot wait any longer. You know this city better than even I. You have great Knowledge Aubrey, and that is why I must ask for your help.'

Aubrey paused at her Leaders words, a wave of excitement rustling within her. Her large eyes opening wider, no longer tired and deprived of sleep, but as awake as the sun.

'Of course, Anarietta. I will do anything you ask of me.'

'I am pleased with your eagerness my Dear Aubrey, but I am worried you will lose that once you hear of your task. I want you to investigate the city, every single nook, and crevice, being and object. Even the dead. We need a lead, two have died, two! In the time span of but a week!' Her index finger and thumb, supporting the fact, 'Never have we had such a tragedy, they were honorable knights, the manner of their deaths horrendous, despicable! Whoever or whatever did this needs to pay with their head … we need a lead, something reliable; and we will not find one until the Witcher arrives. If you could find some form of information … it would be immensely acknowledged. Am I wrong to say you and the Witcher are rather well acquainted?' Anna Henrietta asked softly, with fidgeting hands. Aubrey smiled with remembrance, for she is much more than acquainted with the Witcher, a close and dear friend would be a better description.

'Yes, yes we are. He is a good friend, I suppose you wish for me to aid him with his task? I will do so with honor, I desire to stop this monster too. My full attention and best efforts will be invested to find a lead by the time Geralt- the Witcher arrives. I promise you, Anna.' She spoke quickly, going to her lady's side, with a warm smile. The Duchess nodded her head in satisfaction, her wild chestnut curls bouncing.

'Thank you, Aubrey. I knew I could count on you, I trust this will not interfere with your research too much?' Aubrey relieved a small and swift chuckle, signaling to the world outside the tall elven columns and tracery.

'My research is Beauclair, it will be the opposite of Interference, not that I will be solely doing this for my benefit of course. I truly want to stop this madness, but it wouldn't hurt to take note of the architecture and what not, haven't been outside of Hauteville in years, it'll be compelling to see how the rest of the city fares.' She spoke with genuine interest and intrigue, causing Anna to simper at her friend's scholarly traits.

'Of course, well I should not keep you from your work. If you have any questions, or perchance answers … I will be either here or at the tourney grounds. Good luck Aubrey, I trust you will gain significant clues from the disaster at hand.' With the last nod from Aubrey, Anna left the tower, her royal gown trailing behind.

'Hmm, Geralt where are you? Not like him to be late.' She muttered silently to herself with somewhat worry, peering once again out to the beautiful city that she spent the majority of her life studying. The bustling and traffic of people growing frequently as the sun continued to rise in the clear sky.

With a sigh, she twisted away from the intricately designed barrier, following the path Anna took. Her large doe eyes greedily taking in the structural layout of the castle she had walked through thousands of times before, managing to discover some sort of mark, flaw or purity upon the smooth stone.

Through hallways, constant exedras, and ogival archways, Aubrey acquiring frequent nods; from a large spectrum of the Duchess' personal guard, servants and colleagues, she finally reached the grand opening that led to the royal gardens. The royal gardens, where many of her herbs and plants grew and lived; the same herbs and plants she used to mix and create concoctions. The concoctions made for testing a variety of building materials and surfaces; testing their durability and age, their history and story. Concoctions made to protect such materials from the corrosion of time, and dangers of the environment. The recipe for such elixirs and chemicals were a family secret, only written on a single piece of parchment, and so she the last of her heritage, continues to keep hidden the ingredients. Many have attempted to create similar elixirs but to no avail … the thought causing a smirk to form on her small lips.

She could give it away, and she would if she ever became tired of her role within the court of Beauclair, however, she could not ever fathom losing interest. It was in her blood, it's her destiny to be the scientist of architecture, the scientist of more specifically; Aen Seidhe architecture. She helped plan and scaffold new and innovative buildings, she studied the old ones and theorized on materials lost in time. She was also a scholar by trade, taking interest in all things not human … elven, dwarven, halflings and even "monsters". Often thought to be far from human as well, for she was an "odd" one, not "normal" and most steered clear of her.

The second thought, applying a frown on her brows while busying herself with the watering of plants. The sun burning into her tanned skin, as she stooped backward, grasping the edge of her blouse and tucking the soft fabric tightly into her belt once more. With a loud sigh, she left the small colorful garden, clumsily sprinting down steps and slopes, the echoes of her boot heels loudening every step.

Her mind set on finding Damien de la Tour, captain of the ducal guard. She liked him, perhaps not the most scholarly man, but he was kind to her, reasonable most the time and he would be a great help for her small investigation before Geralt finally arrived in the city. Her steps correlating with her breaths, as she used her memory and theories on where the captain could be. Soon, her mind drifted to darker thoughts, as she saw many knights gathering flowers, heading to the graves of Crespi and Ramon du Lac. Each guard and knight filled with sorrow, igniting a sense of deep sadness within Aubrey. Two elderly knights murdered in a manner she had never heard of before.

After a time of light sprinting through gardens, corridors, rooms, and huts; she finally caught sight of the large captain, standing with a group of his men, an expression of anger and shock. His eyes catching her just as she reached the outskirt of their circle.

'Aubrey de la Savant, I am relieved you're here. Another victim has just been found … a noble man we believe. His remains were found by a fisherman of the Cockatrice Inn. We just received word for guards to be sent.' His voice stern and somewhat revealing stress as his men cleared a path for Aubrey. Her eyes wide and lips shut tightly.

'What do we do? How could it happen so quickly?' She spoke with shaky breaths, staring up at him. Heaving a heavy sigh, his armor clanked with force as he walked slowly to the balcony facing the beautiful mountains. The Cervantesa pass.

'We kill the beast … we find it and we kill it. Even if it takes all our knights and guards. Her grace briefed me on your mission Aubrey, you are to help track this creature down.'

'Sir, I agree, the beast should be stopped, however, we do not even know who or what it is, where it's from and what its motives are. I promised to put all my effort in tracking it down, but … I believe we should wait for Geralt to arrive before any drastic action is made.' She said quietly, noticing the Captains disagreement, his jaw locked in place. Amber eyes meeting her face.

'We do not need his help. I wish her Grace would have listened to me, we need to take action now! Beauclair is in danger, and the longer we wait, the more time we lose. And time is something we can't and will not lose, this degenerate being will pay! Aubrey, you must help us, go now, and find any information before it is too late. Men, escort Lady Aubrey to where the corpse was found! Make haste!' His anger shining through his facade of calm, Aubrey nodding her head with obedience, deep down, however, she couldn't disagree more.

'I'll be back soon, I just need my equipment, good sirs.' She answered the guards' silent question, as the Captain stormed off. All with raised eyebrows expressed their neutrality as she sprinted in the direction of her office.

8***8

Digging through her broad leather chest of chemicals, glass bottles, scrolls, and envelopes, she finally pulled out her most prized possession. The metal, vibrating vigorously as it came into close contact with her potions. The Witcher medallion she had found in an excavation not too long ago, the school of the Wolf. A lone witcher corpse, well a skeleton that is, twin swords made for a monster slayer by its side, beneath the destroyed elven structure; Termes. She could sense some form of magic within the structural debris, and came to a conclusion that the witcher was either on a contract, or there on his own personal expedition.

Sliding the necklace over her head, it hanged with grace from her neck, the wolf with growl fierce and angry, rattling every few moments as she sauntered over to the elven sword suspended on a weapons stand. The hilt a pale color, the blade with a sharp and agile curve. She tested the quality with a few swings, the steel flying through the air, cutting the particles with swift whooshes. The runes installed within the metal, glowing a vibrant blue. Another artefact she was proud to have found. With an acute clip, the sword sustained a position below her belt, swaying gradually with every move she made as she ran out the door with a cloak, in the direction of the guards.

Whatever was going to happen, she would face it with courage and valor just like the knights. She was born and raised in Toussaint and so she would show this monster what it means to affront Toussaintois, however, she would show it that with courage and valor, comes the strength of compassion …

8***8

They headed North-East, all ten of them atop their loyal steeds. Their destination the Cockatrice Inn, no talk or chatter was made during the majority of the trip. Just complete and utter silence of words, only the intense galloping of hooves and disarray of dirt and gravel could be heard ringing in her ears.

She kept her eyes to the front, sensing the thick and nervous atmosphere as they rode on their path. The guards just ahead of her exchanged a few looks of gloom and ordeal, but she decided to pay no mind to it. They seemed frightened and so was she, what were they going to see? She'd never witnessed a murder victim before and so far, hadn't planned or desired too. Her heart pounded noticeably against her chest, but she wouldn't let it get to her. Courage … have courage.

They bypassed many vineyard vines, replete with profuse amounts of workers, sweating beneath the hot Toussaint sun. She lost all concentration when she saw them working, she was entranced with how focused they were and how they seemed to ignore the group of guards following the path near them. Why aren't they worried? But then she remembered, nothing much happened in this land, little to no conflict, no war ever corrupted their soil. Maybe it's best they don't know too much.

Soon, they reached the cobblestone and rather decaying bridge of the Inn, Aubrey stayed patiently perched atop her stallion, as the guards spoke with the fisherman who had found the body, he seemed to be a lover of talk, igniting impatience amongst much of the group, soon however, he was directing them to the meander. It was only then, she could remark that nearly all eyes strayed over that exact spot, where the fishing nets waited for a catch, where she could see an object caught within a net upon the sand, the sight sending shivers of disturbance. It was him …

She had to distract herself and fast, soon deciding on using her time on observing the architecture of the Inn.

Moss and greenery grew on the structure, adding a charm to it she thought kindly. Although the history and age seeped through the sturdy walls of clay and brick, it was beautiful and she couldn't help but fall in love with the Inn. Someday, a more peaceful day … she would visit and study it more carefully, use her tools and elixirs on it.

'Men! Lady Savant,' She smiled kindly with a tinge of humour, as the leading guard whispered her name gently, just after practically screaming, 'We are to investigate this- uh crime scene, please do not … or at least try not to sabotage any evidence, we will need it for further information. We are to carefully and when I say carefully, I mean it … we are to carefully traverse the body to Corvo Bianco, and before you ask, it is no longer a Vineyard but a temporary morgue. DO not waste time, for I have done that by just talking! Let us go!' Some of the men laughed quietly to themselves, while others like Aubrey, moved their heads in understanding.

The fisherman stood beside the commander of the group, signalling for all to follow.

And with that, Aubrey slowly left her saddle, boots touching the ground with little noise compared to the rattling of iron armour. The team of guards, a fisherman and scholar began walking hesitantly under intense stares, ready to do their job. Ready to do the Witcher's job.

'Geralt, I'm going to slap you for this.' She mumbled faintly to herself.

8***8

She sat pale and with no colour, her back slouched over as tears stung her eyes. A guard pet her on the back, standing close as to block her vision from the body. She had vomited soon after they pulled the quartered, rotting and stench ridden corpse from the net.

'I am so terribly sorry, I-I'm not cut out for this …' She choked, hand working quickly to wipe at her lips.

Abel, the young guard with black hair, kneeled down to her eye level, yet the soft pressure of his hand on her back never declined. 'It is fine Miss, this is not something any of us were trained for …' They both glanced at each other, he gifted her a warm smile, relieving some of the disgust and fear she had felt previously. She sighed a thank you, as his eyes reached the wolf hanging atop her chest.

'A Witcher's medallion, wherever did you find such a thing?' He asked in pure curiosity, as the guards continued on their work to place the corpse of Count de la Croix on a cart which sat in a large wooden boat. She smiled at his question and true interest, something not many people gave her.

'An old elven ruin, many years ago. I found it there, along with many other artefacts.' His eyes seemed to lighten up at her statement, before she stood abruptly in shock. Aubrey, gasped in surprise as she saw a hand floating atop the river, she ran swiftly not taking mind to the yelling behind her form.

Splashes upon splashes was a common sound as she trotted through the water, grasping the hand without a second thought. She was drawn to the sight at first, so strangely drawn to it, as if it were a magnet. The hand a sickly pale colour, severely amputated, yet warm and lively. She wasn't disturbed for some odd reason as she settled knee deep in water, studying the hand with an intricate and well-crafted ring adorning the ring finger.

'What are you doing? Are you crazy, woman?' The cry of a guard startling her from the trance, her brown eyes finding a small crowd of the guards watching her with concern. She frowned profusely, as one snatched the hand from her, moaning in disgust, and that is when she blushed with extreme intensity, becoming flustered to the point she had to look away.

She had just run through muck to get to a hand, a hand that had been chopped from an arm … what had got into to her?

'You will stay here … see if you can find more evidence, you seem to have a good eye,' Another man, with a distinct accent and moustache, demanded slowly, no emotion showing. They had the fisherman help push the boat through the wet sand and dirt, soon leaving Aubrey completely alone, as the fisherman decided to head back to the Inn.

Her form entirely still, as careful eyes grazed the site. Junk, fishing equipment and pure rubbish that had followed the rivers current, lay on the shores. She did not touch much, thinking better of it than to mess or lose any helpful evidence the Witcher may find.

'Geralt! I'm not going to slap you… I'm going to wring your neck!' She huffed and puffed, fidgeting with her leather belt. She shortly found herself, flat on the sand. Her backside sat upon the grainy rocks, she took the time to feel the heat of the sun, to breath in the fresh air and scent of flora.

And that is when it hit her, after numbly watching a bottle float by, she realised that the current must have brought the hand and body! She rose rapidly, kicking up piles of sand.

If she backtracked the flowing current, sooner or later, she would find the murder site! She would have to; a smile grew large on her lips. Her mind flew past the idea that maybe the murderer could be there, but she had no time to develop weariness over it. She promised her Grace, she would find something before Geralt arrived; she always kept her promises.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello Again! Here is the next chapter to 'Beasts fear men, Men love beasts'!**

 **I'm really excited, we're getting into action quite quickly! Haha, although this shorter chapter, I will most likely have the next chapter (3) up very soon! I just couldn't not upload this!**

 **I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you so much to Davs and Dishon! Really appreciate the support, I would love so much for any feedback! Feedback, reviews and things like that are the best gifts you can give to a writer, so please do not hesitate to tell me what you think!**

 **Have a wonderful Morning/Day/Night!**

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 **A mill, toy shop, and Nazairi Man**

She had jumped speedily into a smaller sailboat, following the current flowing South. She sat impatiently and determined, waiting for something to catch her eye. For the first time, in many years; she was not focused on the environment surrounding her, not the castle in the distance that stood out with beautiful color and design, nor her own personal and perhaps selfish motives.

It was then, a magnetic pull; stronger than falling from a great height; grasped her attention. An old mill, a lonely, crumbling, collapsing mill. She steered her boat softly with the tide, directly to the jetty that also seemed unstable. However, there was no time for caution. She was quick to tie the floating wood to the post, not caring to secure it properly. The echo of her boots clearing the eerie silence, that almost- almost condemned her to turn back. Her tiny form contrasted painfully with the areas color, tone, and voice. This was not what she was meant to do, not what she was born to do, but she hid her true ideals and hopes, as well as the familiar crush within her chest. Fear.

Swallowing a tedious amount of saliva, Aubrey shuffled extremely and suddenly with prudence. Fingers latching at the tip of the elven sword hilt, ready to use even if it would have no effect; although no company seemed to be existent, she couldn't just barge in. Her shoes left distinct marks upon the wet sand, the straining noise of crushed grain gripping her ears, as she continued to shuffle towards the entrance of the mill.

She found herself holding in agitated coughs, as to not startle any possible suspects that may not know she is there. The dust and vapors of the mill, pulled at her lungs, causing a hand to cover her nose and mouth, keeping away the corrupted particles. Soon, she found herself gradually taking silent steps, traversing the square spiral of stairs. The squeak of wood, striking fear in her heart. Pressure from a large object, walking around the top floor … oh hell.

She quietly slid the sword from her sheath, handling it with strength and grip. The other hand, working on lifting her medallion, ready for it to violently shake in recognition of some form of magic. As she furthered higher and higher, time slowing from the adrenaline in her veins, no movement came from her medallion. She was faced with the emptiness of a room, the light shining through the opening allowing the dust particles to become extremely visible.

And that is when she gasped, her brown eyes followed the trailing of blood. The dried pool of red, sitting under the warm sun. Not only the sight paused her from breathing and movement, not only did the passive stain hit her heart sharply; it was the fact that she knew she was not alone. She felt its presence, somewhere in the attic like room. Tears pierced and stung her eyes, why did she do this? Why did she have to be so impulsive at times?

'I am here …' She whimpered at his voice, his soft whisper. Rotating to the position of his presence, his aura of darkness. Holding out the saber, pointing, she could not help but relieve a loud gasp. In truth, when she first witnessed his appearance, much fear and horror dispersed, however, did not disappear completely.

'I would advise against running,' He spoke calmly, almost smirking as her legs readied themselves to sprint, her body already facing the exit that might, in fact, have killed her from the fall. 'I will not hurt you … that is if you explain why you meddle here.'

'Why did you do it?' She asked slowly, her very words seeping in confusion and anger. His dark, yet pale eyes glaring deeply at her. He didn't seem one prone to impulsiveness or animalistic behavior. He was rather noble in appearance, beautiful in a strange way.

'Your question has no context, girl. I must remind you, I was the one to be asking questions. I will not ask again, why is it you are here?'

'I think you know … I'm here because of you, you've killed three already?'

'Hmm, that will soon be four if you try anything?' He conveyed in dark humor, as she prepared her fighting stance. Aubrey instantly knew she could not threaten this man … dropping the sword and stance within moments.

'There, no impulsive actions from me. Please answer just tell me ... why are you killing these people? You're not doing it on a sadistic whim, there's a personal motive, that's for certain.' She replied, now with an almost kind and patient tone. She wanted to get as much information as possible and stay alive.

She watched as he smiled with a sigh, glancing over her wolf medallion, and then lingering on her face. A recognition swiftly passing his handsome features. However, she could not recognize his face, could not connect it to someone she may have met, or even passed by on an afternoon walk.

'Tell me … Aubrey, why would I desire to tell you such personal knowledge?' He chuckled, sauntering gracefully, flawlessly to just inches from her form. His gray eyes piercing hers, neck tilting just enough to perfectly light his every detail.

She whimpered once more, noticing the marks of age that still managed to make him appear young, naïve in a sense. 'How do you know my name?' She muttered, her voice but a disarray of air.

'Call it a mutual friend … I've heard much of you; quite fondly might I add.' He smirked, multiple dimples forming within his light skin, remarkable color in contrast to his jet-black hair. The creaks of the floor board only loudening, as he circled her. He reminded her of a panther, oddly enough. The exotic lilt in his voice, the overly dark hair and clothing, the swiftness and grace of his every movement and sound. He was stealth in physical form.

'Who?!' She questioned with no anxiety, spinning to face his monotonous expression. He shook his head, motioning to leave her entirely, giving her no choice but to grab his hand. He stopped in his tracks within seconds, and with a flash of hue had the same hand tightly at her throat. Her eyes widened fiercely, her cheeks glowing red, red the same intensity of the very blood that adorned the timber. He frowned deeply, studying her, or at least along those lines, as she focused her breaths and attention on his flickering eyes.

'A toy shop, Sans Sebastian, midnight … I will know if you bring company. I shall enlighten you of our friend there.' And so, Aubrey de la Savant was left alone, as the man dark as night, transformed into a blood mist, flying from her very sight. Out of sight, out of mind … however, that was not the case for her.

This was not the end of their meeting, and deep down, even with guilt; she was somewhat happy that was the case. This was no beast of Beauclair, this was a mystery. There was something more dangerous at work, and he … he was a higher vampire. She knew a higher vampire once, loved one, although the feelings were not mutual, tragically enough… and that is when it hit her.

'It can't be?'


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Sorry about that, I promised I would have the next chapter up soon ... and now for the excuse, life! XD I'm sorry haha I really am sorry, but here is chapter 3.**

 **I hope everyone will enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much to Davs, Dishon, TheOdaFan amd verakormoutova for the support! I hope yous all like this chapter!**

 **Also, please don't hesitate to leave a review or pm expressing any thoughts or feedback of my story so far! I would love that, it means so much to see stuff like that! Have an amazing morning/day/night!**

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"People," Geralt turned his head, "like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves. When they get blind-drunk, cheat, steal, beat their wives, starve an old woman, when they kill a trapped fox with an axe or riddle the last existing unicorn with arrows, they like to think that the Bane entering cottages at daybreak is more monstrous than they are. They feel better then. They find it easier to live."

― Andrzej Sapkowski, The Last Wish

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DETTLAFF, AN ALP AND BLUE BELL

Not many wondered at this time of night, it might not even be considered night, but awfully early. The sky was a dim indigo, with only thousands of lights above to keep her vision from becoming impaired. Stars always faded gradually at this time, the moon would soon return to its long slumber, allowing the sun to awaken.

She rested, although not relaxed; against the wall of the supposed toy shop. She noted the building was in rather bad shape, much like the rest of the lower parts of Beauclair. She liked it, the history seeping through this part of the city, it didn't seem to bother the people living in this environment. The paling scent of herbs and foods from closed stalls, filled her nostrils, calming her greatly.

She watched under the shadow of a hood, as a woman with long hair dressed in a gown, ambled close by to her. Arousing many suspicions, not many women took lonely walks at this time. And she hung around a place where there was to be meeting between higher vampire and human. But … she had no time to quarrel over such suspicions, as a singular whisper reached her ear.

'And so, you obliged …' His articulation startled her from all thoughts, the bright red door, fit for Beauclair, creaked open with precision, asking her to enter the haunting toy shop. She obliged again … leaving her position against the wall, cautiously walking inside.

She turned fast, stumbling as the door creaked shut, as if she were in a horror, a scary story made for children filled with vampires, werewolves, ghosts and all things "evil". Although there was a vampire in this story, it wasn't evil … she hoped.

'Attic.' He spoke once again, directing her to where he was, she frowned, spinning back to the shelves replete with dust, and old toys, some broken and worn down. It intrigued her, strangely, and at that moment, as she strolled watchful of the intricate and small tools, beside damaged toys, she felt a surge of power embrace her. Remembrance, no … not remembrance, a future memory, a foretelling of the future. It scared her, but it left just as quickly as it came.

She couldn't help but chuckle softly, initiating the hood of her cloak to leave its place, allowing her blonde hair to fall from its bun, hovering above her shoulders as she fumbled with a lone rocking horse. She quickly realized that it was not in her favor to play with toys, and so ambled up the noisy stairs. This was not how Aubrey expected the day to go.

She paused at the sight of her … her face so familiar, like she had spoken with her just this morning. A woman's face, drawn beautifully on the flaking wall. She ignored all surroundings, stepping closer and closer to the sketch, so close she could touch the woman's face, with gentle fingers.

She gasped, almost shrieked.

The melody was soft, pretty, pleasant to the ears, but had a hidden grief within the creepily sung lullaby. The music box played with swift intervals of silence. She slowly rotated, facing him. He watched her with no expression, placing the music box upon the surface of the table behind him. The candles light, highlighting his features once more, he certainly was handsome, however, his true nature shone through clearly, or perhaps it was because she had met his kind before.

'I am here, now, please … tell me who our apparent mutual friend is.' She stated bluntly, however with politeness. He suddenly smiled, not maliciously but kindly, as if he was being friendly.

'Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy-' He began to talk before she interrupted within seconds.

'Regis, so it is who I thought … he's alive.' He nodded his head, understanding her sudden disruptiveness.

'Is he here with you?'

'No, he is not, in fact, we have not spoken for quite some time, in human terms at the least. I must say, I did not expect to be caught by a friend of his, but I am glad I did. I have heard much of you, you do not fear things that are not human.'

She smiled sadly to herself, at the memories of the time he was in Beauclair, in fact; memories of them all. Geralt and his hansa …

'I suppose that's true, I only fear what wants to kill me … I'm selfish like that.' She chuckled, and as he smirked at her response, his eyes glared, frightening her, but she would not contradict herself. In truth, she should have run, screamed, or walked out, giving him away. HE murdered those men, but she trusted Regis. If Regis knew and was friends with this man, there was something more to what was going on, but … he could be lying, he might have lied to her, this man might have trapped her …

'I speak the truth. I am the reason Regis lives, I found him as he was when you or whoever last saw him within Stygga castle. I regenerated him, nurtured him back to health and now we are connected deeply.' He spoke softly as if reading her mind. She noted how he spoke, not like Regis who could talk for hours on end of utterly complicated topics, but with short sentences and confidence. She smiled in response, clasping her hands together.

'I trust you …'

'Dettlaff, my name is Dettlaff.'

'Well, I trust you Dettlaff, and you can trust me. I can help even, if you explain why you did what you did.' She whispered, carefully stepping closer to Dettlaff, as he eyed her every move.

'You would not understand, you cannot help.' He answered, perhaps with guilt, Aubrey thought sadly to herself. He frowned at her, his eyes flickering behind her form. And that's when her heart stopped, they weren't alone. Before she could run, she felt his hand grab hers, holding her.

She stared with anger, her eyes fuming at his, the voice of a woman fading in. She spun her head to see the woman from outside … And she whimpered, tumbling into his arms.

'She will not hurt you … Stay calm.' He grasped her shoulder, keeping her from fidgeting out of his arms. She breathed erratically, as the woman with long auburn hair stood naked. With no expression, before strolling closer and closer to Aubrey.

Aubrey whimpered as the woman reached a hand out to her face, caressing her cheek. Dettlaff held her tightly, almost comforting her. The auburn-haired lady leaned in closer. Her eyes hypnotized Aubrey, her eyes that were extremely pale, her eyes that were burned in Aubrey's mind, as their lips touched. She closed her eyes, overloaded with strong emotions, the kiss became deeper, his grasp became tighter. Aubrey moaned into the woman's mouth, allowing her tongue to invade, and that is when she awoke.

It was dark, dimly lit. She felt the gentleness of cushioning beneath her head and the warmth of blanket. She was safe, numb limbs began to attain feeling …

The pressure of a hand in hers, startled her to sit up swiftly. And that is when it hit her. That is when she saw him. She sobbed in joy, throwing herself into his arms. He hushed her, as he awkwardly but none the less rubbed her back with warmth.

'You're late Geralt!' She sobbed with laughter into his neck, he gifted her one of his deep masculine chuckles. She felt at peace, remembering that same laugh from the younger days, releasing her from the hug, she took in every detail. He had aged and that was for sure, but he had aged nicely. Still the same white hair, and golden cat eyes. It was him. In beautifully crafted feline armor, she acclaimed in the silence of her mind.

'I am, and you … you were late as well.' Geralt smirked, his voice still gravelly as ever.

'Late? For what?' She asked in a daze, wiping at her eyes.

'A new murder victim,' He began speaking in his familiar way before his eyes softened, and back slouched ever so slightly, 'Milton de Peyrac-Peyran.' Geralt visibly dampened in mood, Aubrey joining him at the thought ….

He had killed again. She had just spoken to him … the killer, she could have done something. No, she couldn't have, it wasn't her fault.

'Do you know why you're here?' Geralt asked, leaving Aubrey to panic within, she decided to shake her head in denial, which seemed to work, 'You were found unconscious in the streets of Beauclair … with a single bluebell in your hair. Not how I expected to meet you after all these years.' He spoke with raised eyebrows, leaving Aubrey to frown in bewilderment. Did he leave her on the streets? With a flower?

'What? I-I can't remember anything … I was searching for clues … and-and-' She lied.

'It's alright, I understand. I think I might know what happened to you, but we need to speak in private.' He replied with a nod, peaking her interest.

'Of course Geralt, perhaps the gardens?' She asked with a broken voice, standing, her head just meeting his collarbone. Dots blurring her vision, legs loose and weak invoking her to stumble, but Geralt was quick enough to catch her.

'No, I've got a place. The Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery.' His words enticing Aubrey to grimace. A cemetery? She was interrupted by his chuckle, his quick chuckle that caught her from falling in too far, so many memories and thoughts.

'Trust me, there's good reason to go there. I'll save the trouble and tell you now … Regis is there,' Aubrey struggled to suppress a laugh. She couldn't help but choke, so he was walking around and not just melted slush like Geralt said he was when Vilgeforts killed him, 'And he's alive.'

That's when she laughed once more in happiness, in tears of happiness, Dettlaff had not lied to her, however, had left her in a complicated and very irrational position. Geralt surprisingly wasn't taken back from her outrageous behavior, and instead wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders, to stabilize her as they walked slowly from the lonely healer's territory.

'So witcher, how was your journey to here?'

'It was alright, nothing special.'

'No, I mean … how were your journeys before being asked to come here? How do you feel? You got your little Cirilla back, and she's now soon to be Empress of Nilfgaard. How is Dandelion, Zoltan, Triss, Yennefer?' He smiled, genuinely smiled at her words. She always loved when he did that, to see the witcher show his true colours. A kind, compassionate and wise man, a good person.

'I'm feeling fine for someone who defeated the wild hunt, took part in the assassination of Radovid and reconciled with Yennefer of Vengerberg.' He spoke sarcastically, enticing Aubrey to laugh uncontrollably as he finally let go of her.

'Lovely Geralt, you must tell me all about it on the way to the cemetery. It seems you've had a great journey, I'm glad. It also seems you've found your peace … until this all happened at least.' She chuckled, as they strolled to the ducal stables. Geralt assisted her in jumping up on her horse before he whistled for his Roach.

'I'm used to it, a witcher doesn't get given peace, not so suddenly like that. I was expecting something like this to happen, a paramount contract. But I have this feeling Aubrey, this could be my final contract. Maybe this time, I'll earn my peace or some form of it. The Duchess gave me real estate.'

'Oh yes, you certainly deserve it Geralt, and this real estate you talk of, no chances of it being our current morgue Corvo Bianco?'

'Yeah, it is. Not too bad, I actually like it a lot. I'm thinking about asking Yen to live with me there.' She simpered at the witcher's rare moment of dreaming, his eyes reaching out to the distance as they rode on. She hummed in agreeance, as they rode by streams, sheep, and vineyards. And soon wonderfully large packs of wild Bluebells … the flowers that represent kindness … and that is when she remembered vividly. Dettlaff, an Alp and the blue bell, something she would never forget.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! First things first, I would like to apologize for the extremely long wait, school has been quite hectic, but I'm now on break and have finished the next chapter to this story that I have fallen in love with, even though I haven't gotten too far into it in terms of chapters. I've really become immersed in creating this original character and writing about the already amazing characters created by Andrzej Sapkowski and CD PROJEKT RED.**

 **I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and please leave a review or PM with any feedback or thoughts you might have, that's the gogo juice for writers, feedback is wonderful!**

 **Thank you to Kitsunlover, NightlyRowenTree, Aurana and Davs for the reviews and support, I really truly appreciate it :) And thank you to Dishon, Iron Man's Science Bro, PeaceisGood, TheOdaFan and verakormoutova for the follows and favorites. It is so amazing to receive the support. Thank you!**

* * *

 **Reuniting under Stars**

The cemetery was beautiful, elderly and somewhat creepy just as she remembered. As she stood uncomfortably, waiting for the Witcher to return, to tell her the passage was safe, she couldn't help but eye a particular area within the graves. A place she was all too familiar with, memories engulfed her thinking mind, drowning in days of old, numbing the world around her; the environment faded, transforming into a haze of empty, as the stone stood tall, flaming like a tree kindled to inferno.

Reaching out, the smoothness of nature; of grass tickled at her skin. Aubrey's fingers played with the small flowers and strands of turf that bloomed near the tombstone. She closed her eyelids, repressing the urge to speak, to talk to the stone, to only feel disappointed, to ache for an answer she would never get. Why did Regis have to reside here? Why did he have to leave for so long, to only return with grief?

Standing quickly, turning swiftly away from the stone, she shook her head.

'No, don't, don't do this to yourself.'

Ignoring the fire, she glared up at the gloomy sky above, listening and waiting for a sign of the Witcher's return. She was okay, everything was going to be okay, she would see Regis again, and she kept her promise. She took action, she found something, she found information … yet she lied to Geralt, out of shame?

Milton's death was her fault, no, it wasn't. She did not know he would strike once more. So why did she lie?

Lying is only dangerous if you lie to yourself, everything will be okay. It is okay. She did what was right, she did what she _believed_ was right at the time.

Aubrey. Aubrey … 'Aubrey?'

She froze, transformed into stone at the sound of his voice. The delivery of his tone, his familiar lilt hit her ears, resonating with the beat of her heart.

'Regis … you, you look well.' Aubrey muttered, peering back and forth, between the two men that stood before her. Geralt smiled softly, allowing Aubrey the time to take in who stood just before her form. She slowly recognized the unique ticks of his face as he smirked at her words, Regis truly was here.

'Indeed, I am, I fare much better these days, and you my old friend, appear well too. Perhaps a little older, but you humans seem to mature quickly with time.' He chuckled, stepping towards her, enticing Aubrey, to throw her arms around his torso. She engaged a loose embrace, holding him close, yet granting him space. Oh, she missed him!

'I'm not that old, you just don't age! Neither of you do, I'm starting to wonder if I should be jealous, it seems I'm surrounded by timeless features every corner I turn …' She said dramatically, letting go of the previous sinking of her heart, and grasping the joy of reuniting with her closest friends. Regis smiled graciously, showing off his hooked nose and seasoned appearance. Aubrey, observed carefully every detail she could, after all she had not seen him for at least seven years. She was but a young woman, perhaps just reaching twenty at the time when Geralt and his Hansa first arrived to Toussaint. It did hurt, to see him so close, just as it did those many years ago. Her heart although joyous to be near him again, ached at the fact that he didn't feel the same about her, and never would. Regis was only a friend and always will be.

'You've changed your hair I see, but I surmise you didn't want to hear such trivial things.' She giggled, advancing away from him, establishing a comfortable distance.

'No, my dear Aubrey, trivial things would be a preferred topic, however, we have many preeminent questions and concerns to solve. Geralt has told me a great deal already, including how you were found in quite a peculiar condition.'

'I think you were attacked by an Alp, their saliva can cause a sudden and brief coma. Can you remember anything, anything at all?' Geralt asked sternly, a noticeable yet well-hidden worry in his cat-like eyes. Aubrey didn't know how to respond, it was surreal. The feeling of knowing yet still being unaware, she knew but she didn't when it happened. She remembered the woman, some kind of vampire, and … Dettlaff. The red door … and a drawing? Everything else was a blur …

'No, I can't, I can remember bits and pieces but not much. I'm sorry,' Both Geralt and Regis nodded their head in understanding, 'Dettlaff, I know he is the killer however, and a friend of-'

'You've met him?' Geralt abruptly cut in, eyes wide.

'Yes, at an old mill, I traced de la Croix' murder to this old mill. After the guardsmen left with his body to the morgue- wait, have you heard back from them?'

'I've been there, they were all dead. A Bruxa, she was sent to retrieve his hand- but first, I wanna know why you didn't tell me this before? Why didn't you tell me?' Geralt questioned, although not mad, before Regis interrupted just as Aubrey, opened her mouth to explain.

'Perhaps we should focus on producing Resonance, I believe once we progress further into our search for Dettlaff, we can answer those questions.' He stated calmly, soothing the rise in tension. Aubrey, sighed, apologetically smiling to both the non-humans, fidgeting with her belt as she leaned against a lone tree.

'Resonance … sounds like some form of concoction. What do you plan to do with it?' She asked, eyes lighting up. She always was and still is a curious cat.

'To relive Dettlaff's recent past, we believe if we consume resonance and it indeed works, we will discover his hiding place, and if said past concedes his whereabouts, we will elucidate what's truly going on,' He spoke, wisely, gesturing to a bottle filled with some kind of alcohol that sat lonely on the ground, 'but for now, we must wait for my friend to return to us with positive news. So … perhaps you'd care for a snifter of mandrake?' He inquired, gandering at both Aubrey and Geralt.

'Uh, as much as I would like to, I should probably get back to her Grace, I suspect she'll be waiting for me rather impatiently…'

'I understand, old friend. It is truly wonderful to see you again, nonetheless we shall meet here tomorrow evening, after Geralt, retrieves the required ingredients for our concoction.'

Aubrey couldn't help but laugh at the look Geralt, gave Regis, the way his eyes burned, poor Witcher, he always did the hard work, well most the time. She almost could hear Dandelions witty remark, see Cahir's dark hair and honourable appearance, sense the silent and sometimes humorous impatience within Milva and witness the way Angoulême would anger her at times. They were gone, they were all gone, besides Dandelion that is, and Regis who was now here with the Witcher and her. A sudden and deep feeling fell to the pit of her stomach, she missed them. She missed many people and things, she missed being young and without worry, but she shouldn't anguish in such thoughts, she was here, alive, next to two of her closest friends, and they were going to find Dettlaff and stop this madness. Everything was going to be alright.

'I'll see you tomorrow, happy hunting Geralt.' She chimed innocently, causing Geralt to growl a little, although the smallest smile relieved itself on his slowly aging face.

8***8

The ride back to the city of Beauclair was lethargic and placid. Aubrey found her much needed peace and quiet in the time of true isolation, with her loyal companion … he wasn't, in fact, her legitimate companion, she didn't actually have one, but she found she liked the Nazairi horse. He was humble and affectionate, and extremely beautiful, his fur a dark black. He reminded her of something, something haunting, terrifying, and enchanting all the same, maybe a little morbid… Death. And so, she named him Tuvean, it suited him. Death in elder speech. She had found her companion. Tuvean, comrade of Aubrey de la Savant.

8***8

'Aubrey, what … happened? I fear for you, when you were found on the streets unconscious …' Anarietta spoke hesitantly, concern written in her forehead. Her fingers twiddling and moving constantly as she sat at the head of the ducal dining table, glaring upon the unblemished floor.

'I understand Anarietta, you have every right. But, it was nothing really, I'm alright, it was just an uh, a minor mishap, if you will.' Aubrey instantly sank within herself, which only heightened in intensity when her Grace started on her feet, without warning. Blue eyes manifesting flames towards the scholar. Aubrey regretted her choice of words horribly, it certainly was not the best wording.

'I do not know what transpired or happened to you, but it must have made you go batty. You must be-be deranged! To say, that four killings, and nearly being murdered yourself is a minor mishap!'

Aubrey, although shocked by the raise in her Grace's voice, and panic in her tone, remained cool and reposing. She had seen it before, and sadly had experienced the Duchess' wrath in the past too, yet it was always for good reason.

'No, I did not mean that, Your Grace. What I meant to articulate was-was that I- well … well minor mishap wasn't the best wording. I apologise,' Anna, heaving in deep, loud breaths, sank back into her chair, fidgeting intensely, leaving Aubrey to take it as a sign to continue, 'however, there is good news. I've spoken with the Witcher and we, we're close to finding the suspect.' The Duchess' eyes lit up at the exact moment those last few words left Aubrey's mouth.

'Very well, you may retire. Thank you …' Aubrey was taken back at the swift agreeance for her leaving, she was glad, yes, but surprised. She expected the Duchess to ask for every detail, yet she seemed too tired, too broken to question. It was late evening, maybe it was normal … However, Aubrey was not going to question it. She desired a warm bath, and a change of attire, and maybe a quiet walk … yes, a quiet walk was what she desired most.

8***8

'Aubrey!' He yelled, although not angered.

She giggled contagiously, sprinting through the gardens, legs a little wobbly as she continued to convulse with laughter at his attempts of catching her.

'Pa! You have to run faster! Use your legs, not your feet!' She laughed over her tiny shoulders, feet kicking up soil and dirt at full speed, as she breathed in the whimsical scent of herbs and plants, the ones Pa grew and kept safe.

Her hair flew with the wind, her small form a speeding shape, pushing through crowds of both people and flowers.

'You're not in trouble! Just come back!' Her Father chuckled breathlessly.

'I know! I just thought a run would be nice!' She cackled vibrantly, sprinting even faster, jumping over seats and ledges. As she ran, she soon became distracted by the constant sight of colourful buildings, the way they curved, twirled and reacted to the Sun had her utmost attention, it was beautiful. This is why her Father did what he did …

'Ahhh!' She screeched, soon bubbling with laughter as she was lifted from the ground, held in her Father's arms.

'Got you, you little an'givare!' He shouted with a large smile spread across his young face. Dark brown hair strands stuck to his tanned forehead, and dim green eyes beaming with joy. Aubrey, reached a tiny hand to clear the messy loose hairs from his face.

'I'm not a spy, Pa, at least not a good one … I didn't really hear anything.' She whispered with a smirk, enticing him to smirk along with her.

'Hmm, alright, I believe you … but, I suppose, I should tell you. You deserve to know, but I don't know if I can-' At his words, and change of his delivery of such words, she felt a transition in the atmosphere. A bite of shame.

'Tell me what? What should I know Pa?' She asked, her small voice now squeaky in a mixture of concern and eagerness.

'I- never mind, nothing … well, I was going to begin teaching you the history of Toussaint, and the Aen Seidhe. What do you say?'

'I believe you. And yes, I would like that Pa.' She laughed, nodding her head with buzz, however, a bitter taste sat on her tongue, and a deep feeling of doubt slept in her stomach. He was hiding something, and so was she. She heard more than she should have, she heard much of the talk between Victor de la Savant and the beautiful ebony haired sorceress, Lady Fringilla…

8***8

Eyelids fluttering open hesitantly, brown eyes grasped at the familiar ceiling above. The warm bath water soaked pleasantly into her aching limbs, and messy blonde hair. She hadn't relived that memory in years, it was such a strange and crucial yet minor recollection. From afar it was unimportant, but up close, it held much more importance than she ever thought possible. Releasing a strained breath, she ran soft fingers through the wet strands of hair, massaging her scalp.

She wouldn't be gifted a peaceful sleep tonight, and so she left the comforting kindness of the heated, and soapy bath. After spending a time of drying, and dressing herself in a simple outfit made up of trousers and a secure blouse, she made her way to the large, leather covered chest. Seizing her Witcher medallion, she shook her head, relieving a quiet chuckle. Of course, she didn't bring the medallion with her when she went to meet Dettlaff, had she brought it with her, she would have sensed the Alp via the wolf medallion. But maybe it was better she didn't know? Well she would keep it adorned for now, she thought responsibly, sliding the silver over her head.

Just as she was to leave the intricate box of treasures, her eye caught sight of an envelope, the tint an earthy brown, the wax holding the flap over to protect the letter within, still intact. Why she didn't read it, she could not say, or admit to herself, but she knew she should have read it as soon as she received it.

Clutching the thin item, she slipped the paper in a leather satchel attached to her belt. Sauntering unintentionally, she headed to the exit of her suite, applying her boots and leaving the cosiness of the room.

8***8

The Palace Gardens were beyond compare. The scent of intoxicating plants and flowers blooming and resting was enough to bring peace to even the darkest of hearts. Aubrey, relaxed silently upon a lone bench, looking out to the broad and calm lake. The ripples and every motion of the water enchanting her, the cool breeze nibbled at her skin gently, she really did need this.

The wind played with the natural waves of her shoulder length hair, she enjoyed letting her hair down like this. She loved how it made her feel young again …

Peering up at the moon high above the stars, she wondered how Geralt's search was progressing, he might even be completing monster contracts or little quests here and there. He never could sit still, that's the first thing she noticed about him, how he never seemed to relax. And of course, his white as snow hair and yellow eyes, she'd never seen a Witcher before, let alone the well-known White Wolf, nor had she met a Higher Vampire, a true higher vampire. In fact, not only had she made friends with a sensitive and sympathetic Witcher and knowledgeable vampire, she made friends with a famous or rather infamous Bard, a courageous Black Knight of Nilfgaard, an impressive and compelling archer, and a resilient Cintran girl. For an introverted girl with little interest in considerable groups of people, she met and found friendship within a diverse company of … misfits.

A sad smile appeared on her face, hand reaching inside the satchel, she pulled out the envelope. Eyes glossing over the material over and over again, she began to wonder if she had the guts to open it… Until Tuvean, snuck behind her sitting form, nuzzling his head into her shoulders, as if to reassure her she wasn't alone.

'I know, I know. It's not like it'll bite me!' She laughed, gently petting his mane.

'No, but another might …'

A sharp chill ran up her spine, the skin left untouched by clothing became cold as ice. That same exotic lilt, the atmosphere, she could suddenly sense his presence. Placing the letter on the seat slowly, she rotated her neck, and secured a view of him, he was hidden in complete darkness, the moon didn't reach him, yet the moon shone, and accentuated Aubrey's smaller form.

She didn't dare run, but only glowered Dettlaff down. She couldn't fight him, not many could … But something nagged her, told her he wouldn't, he wouldn't hurt her.

'Do not be so worried, I am not here to harm you-'

'Then why would you say such a thing? Why did you set me up? Why?' She interrogated, standing tall, as his form trudged closer to her. Now half his body, was lit by the moon's light.

'Contrary to what you may think, I just saved you from being attacked by a bruxa held dear to me… You shouldn't be out here alone with the Beast of Beauclair still prowling.' He spoke calmly, strolling on the outskirt of where the moon directly reached.

'Than-thank you… I don't understand, why did you do that to me, I thought you wanted my help? Why did you let that happen to me?' She asked sadly, she knew she should have asked him why he killed Milton and the others, but with great shame, she was hurt by what he did to her…

'Because … you would not have left otherwise, it was necessary.' He stated, still in darkness.

'Well, why did you ask for me to come? You don't make sense?'

'I don't need to make sense to you. Humans will never understand.' He explained softly, finally coming into the light. He appeared the same, dark hair and coat. He was … strangely, hypnotic to watch. Unlike Regis, who could entirely fool even the most observant of people. Dettlaff truly was not human, he was something beyond the motives, emotions and thoughts of a human …

'I-I'm not leaving, so don't think I will let you take my spot.' She said quickly, sitting down just as swiftly. She felt her face warm at how stupid it was to say something like that, but she was not going to leave. She came here for peace, and it's not like she could force him to do anything he didn't want to do. Like turn himself in, disclose his motives or something she would really like him to do. Something he should do. Or maybe something she was supposed to do.

'As you wish.' He said faintly, situating himself beside her, at a convenient distance. Aubrey, could feel the warmth from his body still however, embracing her own cold one. Playing with the corners of the letter, she cleared her throat.

'Dettlaff … I-uh, I spoke with Regis and Geralt. They want to help you too, we all do. I don't know you, but I believe there's a justified reason for your actions.'

'I understand Regis, Geralt even, but you? Why would you desire to help me? I have spilt blood on your soil, I have hurt your city. I thought you'd have a personal vendetta for me.'

'Like I said, I only fear things that would see me dead, and so with that comes a vendetta. I'm selfish, one of my character flaws I suppose.' Aubrey, said evenly, monitoring the way a quick smirk passed his lips. She watched him ever so carefully, as he seemed deep in thought.

'I've heard much about you Aubrey de la Savant, but never have I heard that you're selfish. In fact, the very opposite of selfish, Regis always held you in the highest regard.' Aubrey laughed kindly at the thought, suddenly forgetting who she was conversing with.

'Oh, I was thinking he would have told you how incredibly naïve I can be … that's another character flaw of mine I think, I'm also quite impulsive really,' As she went on, she thought she'd heard him chuckle, causing her to pause and analyse his expression, she found his eyes, staring, 'Sorry. I- um, thank you for bringing Regis back. I surmise that was no easy feat …'

'It was nothing, nothing compared to the shame and regret I would have felt, if I left him as he was. I did what I believed was right, just as you do.' She listened carefully, absorbing his rather wise and mature words, scrutinising the letter in her hand.

'Have you ever felt an extreme sense of guilt?' She whispered, looking up at his forever contemplating eyes.

'Yes … have you, Aubrey de la Savant?'

She nodded, peering darkly down at the now opened envelope…

'Yes, yes I have.'

'Why do you not read the letter? Like you said, it won't bite.' He said bluntly, inducing her to release an abrupt giggle.

'No, no it won't bite. But it will still hurt, no matter if it has no teeth.'

'I do not follow. What is it? Who is it from?' He questioned, genuinely intrigued.

'My Father … he wrote it for me when he passed, many years ago. I just couldn't find the courage to read it, and I don't know if I can now.'

'That is selfish.' He replied truthfully, sending her into shock. Surrendering a harsh laugh, although not amused, she turned to him, eyes wide. He only stared back.

'Did you truly just say that!'

'Are you not the one who just called yourself selfish only moments before?' He said somehow sympathetically, 'You should read it, for your Father, he wrote it for you, you should find courage in that.'

What hurt most was that he was right. But even him being right could not convince her to read the letter. It would only finalise what she believed to be true.

'I-I … you are right, yet I still can't do it. I just can't …'

Unexpectedly, Dettlaff sighed, gesturing to hold the letter. Aubrey could only give it to him willingly, allowing him to read the inked words, the words that were so very personal, the words only she was meant to read. But not only that, he began to read the words aloud…

 **My dear girl,**

 **I would like to write this letter, for you to keep till the end of your days. This letter will remind you of truth. I wish for you to always desire the truth, whatever that truth may be, for I did not give you the truth you deserved while I was with you.**

 **I have loved you with all my heart, spirit and mind. I never believed I could love someone the way I loved you, my daughter. My little girl, the moment I saw you, I fell in love. I know you, I know you despise cliché stories of true love, but please believe me, when I say I've never felt this way before. One day you will understand Aubrey, how it feels to love your child. To care for someone who knows nothing of the world, who loves you back so unconditionally.**

 **To witness you grow and learn in a world so large, to see you smile and walk, to hear you giggle and cry. You're a creature of extreme beauty, for just being alive. You are curious beyond comprehension, although naïve, you are compassionate and kind, wanting to understand the why's and how's whilst still staying humane. You want to save everyone from their own destructive nature, everyone but your own. You can be so selfless and generous, but so selfish and stubborn.**

 **I wish I could say you are just like me, maybe you are in many ways. But certainly not all, for someone out there is your true Father. Someone out there is your true mother, somewhere in the world, are your true biological parents. And although I could never forgive them for leaving you, I can only thank them for the gift of allowing me to love you.**

 **I am not your flesh and blood, but you are still my Daughter and forever will be.**

 **I hope you will forgive this truth, that I should have given to you before I left.**

 **Love, Pa**

A severe silence initiated when Dettlaff finished reading. The cicadas and the waves, the huffs and snorts from Tuvean, even her own slow and dissonant breaths, heightened in sound and notice.

She felt the streaks of water upon her face, the way the tears travelled the curves and motions of her skin. She didn't cry for the truth she was given, she had speculated that exact truth ever since she eavesdropped that warm day. She cried for her Father, she wanted to tell him she loved him as her Pa, he was her Pa.

She was taken from her dream like state, at the touch of his hand on hers. It was so unforeseen, so contrasting to his exterior so far. She didn't know how to react, and so eyed his hand, his familiar hand. The magnetic pull, the same pull as powerful as falling to the ground. But there was no ring, the only difference was there was no ring. She stooped back on the seat, studying his reception to the situation. His pale green eyes burned into her own, and she remembered his eyes. A similar green. She smiled, finding amenity in those fierce eyes. He was the first to look away this time.

'Her name is Rhenawedd … we met in Metinna, she had followed me, most likely curious of me. She was not afraid, she took the time to understand me, she gave me her time and patience, compassion.' He spoke, lost in his own mind, capturing Aubrey's attention, 'She left suddenly, without explanation, I attempted to forget her. She was a part of me, and I her, she wouldn't willingly leave without reason, I could not believe it. And it is true, she did not leave me willingly, she was taken from me. Abducted, and now they threaten her life, I killed those men to save her… She, she is mine, and I am hers, I cannot give up on her.'

'We will find her, just let us help, and we will find her, no more killings.'

Grasping his hand in her own, she held it tight. And for the first time in the short period of them knowing each other, he smiled. Thoroughly smiled.

'Why did you put a bluebell in my hair?'

'You are kind, Aubrey, and that is not a character flaw.'

They sat in a serene silence, enjoying the company, appreciating another being knowing their truth. Their sad truth. They sat like this for the entirety of the night, sometime, close to the rising of the sun, Aubrey had fell asleep. She fell asleep beside a man, a man who listened to her. Who understood. He was no beast. And she closed her eyes feeling safe and whole, under stars and moon.

Awakening to the sound of distant noise, the noises of talking, whispering, horses, carts and all things living. She was alone, lying under the hot Toussaint sun, upon a bench, holding tightly, the letter Dettlaff had read to her. The letter her Father had written before he passed, and as she sat up, witnessing Tuvean, nibbling on healthy green turf, she understood what her Father had meant.

She would find the truth, she would do it. And so, Aubrey, thought of the trip back to Regis and Geralt, where she'd assist them in creating resonance.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! WOOO! Here's the next chapter for "Beasts fear Men, Men love Beasts", I'm so excited to upload it! I've really enjoyed writing this fanfic so far, and I hope everyone who has been reading, has enjoyed it too and continues to enjoy it. I really hope I've been doing this story justice, as well as the characters. There's a lot more to come soon, but for now, this is Chapter 5!**

 **Thank you to all who have been reading, following, favoriting and reviewing this so far. And please don't hesitate to leave a review or Pm regarding any feedback, thoughts, and ideas involving the characters, story, and writing, I really want to read what you think of it! :D**

 **Also, this chapter has some (alot) of dialogue from the DLC Blood and Wine, I did change some bits of it to fit into the story with Aubrey apart of it in this fanfiction, I really loved the dialogue from Blood and Wine, basically I loved all the dialogue from the entirety of the Witcher 3 and both the DLC. It's incredibly well written and really sucks you in, it's immersive, interesting, and really provokes many emotions and thoughts, via the storyline, characters, and settings. Such an amazing game! I hope I can do the same with this fanfiction, as I have fallen in love with where this is going.**

 **Thank you! Please express your thoughts and feedback!**

 **A Knight, Lady in Waiting & Ruins of Khagmar**

Aubrey, adorned one of her truest and lively smiles, as she rode towards the Tourney Grounds, where she hoped to appease her hungry appetite she had awoken with. She also desired to witness the festive spirit of her home, she would not forgive herself if she didn't at least have a peek at all the fuss of the traditional Knight tournaments. She didn't think Anarietta would forgive her either if they could not discuss such events, a yearly topic for them both.

Tuvean, travelled at a steady pace, granting her a pleasant and refreshing journey, a journey both could enjoy and relish in. Aubrey adored her land, the way it was so unique and different to the rest of man's realm, to the world. Reading fairy tales as a child, she was lucky to correlate the world she lived within and those tales, the way the sky was almost always blue and clear, the clouds fluffy and pure white, the castles and buildings impossibly vibrant and colourful, intricate and royal, just as the people and fashion that caught her eye.

Her mood within, her spirit and heart transmuted into an aura, surrounding her form as she warmly greeted pass and goers, riding through the vineyards and smaller villages, around the tall palace of Beauclair, built by the elves themselves. Oh, how she loved stories of that time period of elves here in Toussaint. One of the prominent lessons she remembered as a young girl, learning of how the palace was reconstructed and rebuilt by the famous and spectacular architect, Piotr Faramound of Nilfgaard. She always hoped she could be just like him, a master of the arts and creations of neo-elven architecture. He was well-known for his amazingly beautiful tracery work, involving silver and gold, and his complicated designs, including the most representative of such, the palace in which she was proud to call home.

She reminisced about the memories of sitting on the marble floor, of her Father's study, listening and watching him explain to her the history of Toussaint, even details of the Conjunction of Spheres in which Fringilla Vigo assisted in teaching her. Aubrey, although precise in guiding Tuvean, was lost in her own world as they passed through the entrance of the Tourney grounds. Somewhat oblivious to the countless tents, people and celebrations occurring just in front of her, but she was soon taken from her inner escapes, at the sound of her name being called.

Guillaume de Launfal, nephew of Palmerin de Launfal. She couldn't keep a bright smile from showing itself, she remembered him fondly, although younger than her in both age and mind, he was one of her closest, if not sole childhood friends. Not only that, but he was standing with none other than Vivienne de Tabris, Lady-in-waiting to the Duchess, and this year's Patroness for the grand tournament. They appeared happy and joyous, standing close to each other, Vivienne watching him affectionately, her hand softly touching his unoccupied one, as he waved Aubrey over. At least someone had found a happy ending throughout this turmoil.

Carefully, stepping down from Tuvean, giving him the freedom to wander the grounds, she went over to the young couple.

'Good morning, Guillaume, Lady Vivienne.' She greeted kindly, bowing her head respectfully.

'Indeed, it is a good morning! What has taken you so long to join us?' He asked, surprised by her lateness to the tournament, she usually was there from start to finish.

'I'm sorry, but it was just some important business I had to take care of … very important, but nothing for you two lovebirds to worry over.' She laughed, grinning at them both. Vivienne smiled bashfully, peering down. Aubrey had always found Vivienne to be pleasant, perhaps a little shy and reserved, which was most likely why she could connect with the noble girl, even without directly knowing her well. They both weren't known to be social among the nobles of Beaculair.

'Very well, I will take that excuse for what it is. Come, Savant! We shall discuss life, love and rumours over wine and food.' He said, directing them to an empty canopy of fine material. As the trio sat under shade, beside a delicate table filled with luscious, heavenly food and wine, Aubrey found herself closing her eyes. Listening to the familiar sounds, smelling the familiar scents. Just like it was when she was young, her Father would make sure to bring her here every year it was held.

'So, what has the Ducal architect and historian been busying herself with, these few past years, I had heard of your excavation of Danamebi Temple ruins, what was inside such an ancient ruin?' He questioned excitedly, with Vivienne listening in intently.

'It was a temple I've always had interest in, a temple dedicated to the Elven Goddess of the same name, Danamebi. Not only is it a rather religious and spiritual property of elves, it was supposedly connected with an acclaimed elven chef, at the time many of my fellow colleagues found it to be just pure speculation, after all, it was so far North from the central part of Toussaint. Why would such a man have his studio placed there?

However, I believed otherwise, it would have been a divine and holy place to practise such talents and profession, as Danamebi is often connected with flowers, herbs, and eternalness. When I arrived to the temple, I sampled some of the ruins materials, being, not surprisingly, of common Aen Seidhe architecture. And as I delved deeper, I found that the door was closed and really didn't want me to find my way in, it had a strangely shaped lock. Almost as if a spoon would fit,' She shook her head laughing at the memory, the confusion of the moment coming back to her, 'But I found a way, and inside lay a magnificent studio-kitchen, of course, it was very much the stylistic art of elves, with marble flooring and elegant column work. There was also countless amounts of treasure, gems and stones and legendary recipes of the cook Ra'mses Gor-Thon.'

'How marvelous, I would have loved to see the beautiful designs of such a monumental piece, but how did you access the cellar?' Vivienne asked, a gleam of adventure in her eyes, waiting for Aubrey to finish feasting on fresh grapes, bread and bits of chicken, 'Well, I cannot say, for it is a family secret.' She answered, somewhat obscured as she still had fragments of mouth-watering food in her mouth, causing Guillaume to chuckle at her antics.

'Enough about me, however, what have you two youths been up to? Who was the winner of this year's Knight tournament?' She asked interested in what she had missed.

She paused at how the two of them responded to her question, giggling amongst themselves, but Guillaume was the one to answer.

'You would not believe it, Aubrey! Geralt, your Witcher friend!' She choked loudly on the gulp of wine she had sipped from her tankard, he was right, she couldn't believe it, the thought of Geralt standing in front of a crowd, receiving flowers and knightly rewards sent bubbles of laughter up her throat, 'You're jesting! What was Geralt doing, signing up for such a competition, he hates those sorts of things!' She laughed fiercely, Geralt was not going to outlive this, she would make him remember it. Although, it wouldn't have been an easy feat, to win the tournament, she also admired him immensely. What made it funny was how Geralt was so very similar to what a Knight should be and more, an honorable, compassionate and wise man. It almost seemed like it was meant to be, a Witcher more gallant than most Knights these days.

'No, far from it. He did incredibly well, and he did it for a noble cause, we will never be able to thank him enough.' Guillaume, spoke now sincerely, grasping Vivienne's hand, she rolled her eyes playfully, but nonetheless smiled at his caring behavior. Aubrey found the exchange between them sweet and rare, glad that they had found their love, even if the blossoming of what could become love.

The three of them, sat relaxed and carefree, conversing about recent events, news and rumours, although steering clear of the "Beast" of Beauclair, thanks to Aubrey's evasiveness when the subject was broached. It was soon approaching late evening, the sun was setting to the West, sky transforming a pinkish red, it was time to return to Regis and Sir Geralt of Rivia, she thought comically. However, she was anxious for what they would find, and of course what she would say to them about her meeting with Dettlaff again. No, it's better off not to say anything, it's not necessary, it was personal … Her eyes widened slightly, at the realization of how she spent an extremely intimate and personal moment with the Higher Vampire, and how he supported her.

Shaking the unusual yet pleasant idea, she said her goodbyes to the lovebirds, and made her way to the cemetery with Tuvean.

8***8

The ride was shorter than she expected, the eerie fog and gloom of the cemetery began to catch up with her and Tuvean. The trees held much grief, sorrow, and mourning, but she didn't let herself falter, not only was she determined to do this for her land, Father, Regis, Geralt and Dettlaff even … she had become a little tipsy from the wine back at the Tourney grounds. The alcohol had gone straight to her head, and she found that she was slightly lacking in motor skills, but for the most part coherent, and tentative.

Leaving Tuvean with a gentle pet, she cautiously entered the crypt, now that the door was unlocked.

The scent of herbs, chemicals and old books filled her nostrils, as she walked through corridors and down steps, finally finding a rather broad room, glowing in candlelight. She was taken back at the sight of how alive and comforting it was, and with a sigh, she dawdled her way up another small set of steps. At first, she was hypnotized by the strange smells, almost as if a concoction was being brewed. She peered deeply at the surroundings, witnessing hanging garlic, herbs, shelves of books, potions and a desk neatly assorted and covered in scrolls and such, her eyes scanned the room, traveling the circumference until she was interrupted abruptly.

Hitching in a shriek, she stooped back, grasping at her chest. There stood Regis, amused at her behavior, his hand holding tightly on his leather bag of unsurprisingly, more herbs.

'Regis! Sorry, I-uh, I hope I'm not too early.' She breathed out unevenly, fidgeting with her belt, receiving a quick smirk from the vampire.

'No, no my friend, you couldn't have arrived at a better time. As you can see, and no doubt smell, I've begun brewing our Resonance,' He stated thoughtfully, gesturing to the cauldron-like pot, discharging a gas-based substance, of a green colour, 'All we need at this moment in time, is an approximated measure of a Wight's saliva, it will serve as an occipital lobe stimulant … and Geralt shall be here soon with said ingredient, I should hope.' He finished, as Aubrey sauntered over to the globe, lightly touching its surface.

'He will, we know him. He rarely ever lets anyone down.' She responded with a smile, glancing at Regis, who watched her attentively, 'Of course. Once he arrives, we can progress further into infusing this little dose … However, there is something I wish to ask you.' He declared, leaning his back carefully upon the desk behind him. She gestured for him to continue, beginning to lose some of the slight drunkenness.

'When we first took rest in Beauclair those many years ago, when I first came to Beauclair to delight in peace and accord, I remember how curious and outlandish you were. After the first few days of our stay, you'd forever be trying to improve our "vacation", initially, I'd believed you were spying on us for her Grace, or perhaps reassuring your own patriotic pride, maybe both, but I soon began to realize you were genuinely intrigued and fascinated.

In a sense, I became akin to such fascination, finding you engaging. And when you finally told me you knew what I was, shock and bewilderment was something I'd never experienced until then. Not many humans are so adept at picking up signs so quickly, in fact, you were nearly as efficient as the Witcher. All the same, you were still so comfortable and unthreatened by my presence, by the presence of non-humans. I never had the chance to ask how you discovered my secret since you never felt to disclose such knowledge either.'

Aubrey, stood frozen, seeking to take all his words and acknowledge every single one, trying to understand why he desired to know so much, or maybe it was because she was irritated with what her true answer would be. The truth really would sound pathetic, to most people in the least, she was so young at the time, in age and mind. She was so infatuated with the intellectual, and oddly charming man, that she did borderline spy on him. Of course, she enjoyed the company of all of them, finding she had common ground with each and every one of them, especially Geralt for his easy-going nature, but she wanted so desperately to know Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy.

It was gradual at first, the things she began noticing, like how she realised he had no shadow, which she brushed off at first, and then when she spotted how he had no reflection and steered clear of coming into contact with all things silver, all these little things started putting themselves together to create this one large puzzle. Something wasn't right about him, and so she researched in depth, countless books, tales and myths, and soon, come to the conclusion, that he was a higher vampire …

'Uh, well, you're an interesting person, I suppose, and I've found that when you meet or find an interesting object- or person, you start to observe it or them very closely, and I observed you. I theorized on answers to many questions and came to that conclusion, and I turned out to be right.' She answered nervously, and she could tell he sensed such nervousness, his eyes squinting slightly.

'Me, interesting? I don't know if I should feel astonishingly flattered, or astonishingly offended.' He chuckled, scratching his face.

'How about both.' She giggled, finding a silver lining in the fact that he believed her, it was the truth after all, just not all of it.

'Then both it is.' He agreed, swiftly passing her, and grabbing a black item, as well as her attention. Aubrey couldn't exactly tell at first what it was, but as he squeezed the object, directly into a tube, she instantly noticed the blood pouring delicately into the glass. Stepping closer, she saw it was a dead Raven he was holding, its throat slit. The sight spinning her stomach wild, inducing her to cringe and grit her teeth.

'What are you doing?' She asked, watching him intensely as his eyelids closed tightly, and hands began shaking ever so softly. She knew at once what was going through his mind, her own hand gently touching his shoulder, slowly applying pressure to grasp his attention.

'What are you doing?' She whispered calmly, this time gaining his attention.

'Nothing, not as of yet. Like I said before, once Geralt arrives, all will be revealed.' He spoke painfully so, in between sharp breaths. Aubrey, nodding her head, rubbed his back before leaving his side, and taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs.

They talked every now and then, whilst he went about keeping everything in order, devising the brew. One time, even taking a sip from an unknown liquid she had never seen before, his eyes closing just as sharply as they did before. What was he planning? She fidgeted with her belt, as her eyes began growing heavy, but just as her consciousness went to leave her, a familiar voice chimed in.

'Send your spies after me?' Geralt asked, amused, Aubrey noted tiredly.

'My watchers. Were something to go wrong, I could then arrive quickly to help.' Regis responded as Aubrey began to stand and direct her way to the men.

'Managed fine alone, but … thanks for the thought. Gonna need much longer to finish brewing Resonance? Mentioned a last ingredient, too -what about that?'

'I was just about to ask the same thing, welcome back Geralt.' Aubrey added, smiling at the White-haired Witcher. He nodded to her while giving Regis a flask of what she surmised was to be the Wight's saliva.

'That, I, fear, might prove troublesome. You see, to use the concoction to summon the memories of one, the solution must contain the blood of another specimen of the same species.' He answered, strolling closer to the cauldron, glancing between both her and Geralt.

'Shouldn't be a problem. Aubrey and I happen to know a higher vampire who should be willing to help. Right, Regis?' He stated with his gravelly voice, sitting on the desk, crossing his arms, staring right at the mentioned vampire.

'It's not that simple, I'm afraid.' He said, rubbing his glove adorned hands together, 'While you both were away I tried my damndest to identify a replacement, but alas, none such exists.'

Aubrey, after taking in his words started to realize what he meant. She hoped that she was wrong, but as she thought quietly to herself, with Geralt voicing their confusion, her fears were proven.

'The blood must be in an agitated state. As I'm certain you know, higher vampires can change their corporal shell. As our flesh changes, so does our blood's chemical composition.' Both Geralt and Aubrey glanced at each other, 'In long story short, I shall need to induce in myself a state of strong psychokinetic arousal. In brief, madness, rabidity. And that stands to be very, very dangerous.'

'Dangerous? Why? I mean, you'll still be you, right?' Geralt asked confused, staring at Regis once more.

'True, but I shall be highly agitated, in a state of fury. You know better than I that fury cannot be controlled…' He explained gravely, 'If you've ever seen an enraged vampire, you know very well that all who find themselves nearby will be in grave danger.' Aubrey felt a chill go up her spine at the thought of Regis being in such a state of mind.

'How will we handle that? I'd rather not have you lunge at me, claws extended.' Geralt stated firmly, 'And I'd rather not put you in danger either.' He said, looking at Aubrey, who nodded in understanding.

'That makes two of us. But worry not. I've thought it through thoroughly. Details to follow, soon.' Regis answered, enticing Aubrey to speak up, 'What do you plan to do?'

'We shall visit Tesham Mutna, an ancient Vampire estate. There we will find cages suspended in the air. I will enter one, be confined. Geralt, you will lure beasts there.' He said to the Witcher, 'Beats you will then kill. The bloodletting should prove profuse. Abundant enough so that the blood's scent will drive me mad, wild.'

The name Tesham Mutna, sent fragments of past memories through her mind. She remembered reading about it once. There was nothing pleasant or remotely friendly about it.

'Tesham Mutna, is that not where humans were kept as cattle? I've read some pretty terrible happenings that took place there.' She thought aloud, although not accusing Regis of anything, she said it neutrally, as to not attack him for something he had no part in. However, this did alarm Geralt, who in turn, questioned the source.

'Is it true?'

'It is true, shamefully so. It is a place of torment, a torture chamber. Long ago, shortly after we'd arrived in this world, one among us named Khagmar developed such a taste and lust for human blood that in one night he could imbibe an entire village.

This brought trouble on the entire species. Common folk wearied quickly of living in constant fear. They began to hunt us, seek the aid of mages and witchers in tracking us down.' He explained before Geralt spoke what both he and Aubrey were thinking. No one could kill a higher vampire.

'So, what? Not like they could ever hope to kill you.'

'But they were bothersome. Forgive the comparison, but when did you last enjoy mosquitos buzzing around your head? In any case, the other vampires decided something had to be done, Khagmar had to be caught and punished.

A torture chamber was thus outfitted in the dungeons of Tesham Mutna. Inside it, a cage made entirely of a special alloy of silver, dalvinite and meteorite steel. Khagmar was captured and locked in the cage. Sat there over two centuries, driven to fury time after time, never able to escape. Thus, I know the cage will withstand the fury to which we shall drive my humble being.'

'Well, with that, I think we can go to this lovely place now, let's go.' Aubrey said, holding her wolf medallion, as she left her spot, however she was stopped in her tracks when Regis lightly touched her shoulder, shaking his head.

'What?' She asked, desperately glancing back and forth between Geralt and Regis.

'The danger we may face is only for a Witcher and Vampire, I prize your eagerness Aubrey, but this time, it won't be necessary.' He told her quietly, releasing her shoulder, she looked to Geralt, hoping he would disagree, but he instead shook his head at her too, grimacing.

'Regis is right. It's too risky.' He said simply, Aubrey could only comply, however she felt a bubbling sensation of disappointment and discredit.

'Fine, I will use my prized eagerness to watch over Resonance … Sorry, I didn't- I- just be careful.' She whispered, fidgeting with her belt. Peering back up, she noticed how Geralt smirked, and Regis chuckled.

'I am serious, I don't care if it's near impossible to kill either of you, be careful... Otherwise, I'll be highly agitated.' She threatened, only to sigh hesitantly, it felt as if a river had been held within her chest, a fast-going river.

'We promise.' Regis said with a final effect, commencing an impactful silence.

'See no reason to dawdle, Tesham Mutna- Take me there.' The Witcher declared, however, it seemed Regis hesitated to leave just yet.

'In a moment. Just one last thing …'

Regis, with much unease, lifted the tube ample with blood from the Raven, and in one quick motion, drank the liquid…

Aubrey, halted in all movement, startled with anxiety. Geralt seemed to notice her stare, 'What was that?' He asked.

'Blood. The last favor the raven did me. I've also taken some sangurium, a solution that sharpens one's sense of smell. One drop of blood shall smell like a gallon to me now.'

'You crazy! You're a recovering addict!' Geralt, interrogated, Aubrey could only observe, eyeing Regis' every motion and action. How could he do this to himself? How come he'd never told her he was a past addict? She would never have let him do it... if only she knew.

'Your outrage warms my heart, Geralt, but you must remain calm. I had no choice.' He humored, allowing a short moment of quiet. But it was soon demolished when his head turned, conveying his face to both Geralt and Aubrey, his teeth gritted together, eyes held tightly shut. He was in pain …

She was already reducing the distance between her and Regis, when he stood upright.

'As things stand, the die is cast. High time we set off for Tesham Mutna. My head's spinning already, and Aubrey … you're starting to smell quite tasty…' He spoke slowly and light-headed, gaining distance between them.

'And you're starting to scare me.' Geralt replied, giving Aubrey a look she'd seen him give her once, many years ago, just as they were to leave her for Castle Stygga, to save Ciri and Yennefer. Don't follow …

And once more, they left her, but she knew they'd come back this time.

8***8

The fearful wait commenced as soon as they had left her alone in Regis' lair. At first, it wasn't too bad, she studied some of the scrolls and books he owned, there was much about anatomy, brewing, and alchemy, as well as some things on his ancestors and the Conjunction of Spheres. She even examined the full body skeleton that stood, adorning a rather formal hat, she stared at it for what seemed like ages until she felt a little creeped out, instead focusing on the smoking brew of Resonance that needed just one last ingredient.

Sauntering around the crypt, she busied herself in nothing and everything at once, she had so many thoughts running amuck in her conscious mind, that she couldn't work out the nagging and worrisome feeling from her subconscious mind. At one moment in time, she left the warmth of inside, to go talk with Tuvean, who stood close by to the crypt, grazing on patches of grass, she even filled a bowl with some fresh water she had found within a water skin from the depths of his scholar like items. Aubrey honestly didn't know If Regis drank anything but mandrake, there was so much of it.

However, she couldn't stay outside, thinking about her Father, as she sat down within the safety of the Crypt's wall, she pulled out the letter once more. Reading and re-reading the letter. And every time she read those inked words, her mind thought of Dettlaff, his voice haunted her in her Father's words.

She was entirely bewildered by Dettlaff, he was oddly soothing and calm, charming even? He was beautiful, attractive, and unusually appealing. She felt something when she was with him, safe, protected, light-hearted and just herself. She felt no such feelings of unease or dismay. It tempted her to call his name, find his beloved now, and stop all this madness. She wanted so dearly to help him, just as he helped her.

What would her Father say to her now? What would he say if he was still here, would he be proud? Would he be disappointed? She just couldn't know, and she would never know, as he left her life too early on…

As she waited for the return of Regis and Geralt, she minded the potion, thinking of Dettlaff and his recent memories, imagining he was there next to her, just there beside her.

Eyelids growing heavy, she felt all thoughts and worries leave her head, sending relief throughout her body. She fell asleep, dreaming of pale eyes, black hair embellished with grey, and his touch. She dreamt of Dettlaff …

8***8

Aubrey … Aubrey, wake up.

A voice, a known, repeated voice. A chant of her name, something soft, touching, nearing her face. The sense of a hand, caressing her face became prominent, it forced her to open securely shut eyes.

It was a blur, perhaps a silhouette, just ahead.

'Huh?' She asked, moaned, sitting upright, rubbing at her eyes. The blood traveled quickly to her head, sending imagery of bright colors, then darkness.

'Aubrey, we must meet with Geralt. Resonance, it worked just as we hoped.'

Regis …

'It worked? Are you okay? Where's Geralt?' She yawned, stumbling upright, falling into the vampire's arms.

'Yes, I am well. No need to worry about me. Sans Sebastian, we're to find a bootblack, it seems he has made contact with Dettlaff previously, he may know of his whereabouts. Your prized eagerness would indeed be very much obliged right now.' He chuckled, as she hummed in agreeance. Aubrey was not much of a morning person.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello! I'm back with the next chapter, we are progressing further into both Aubrey's story, and of course, the wonderfully awesome story of Blood and Wine.**

 **Seriously, I am so freaking excited! I hope you are too, otherwise, that would be extremely awkward ... XD But in all seriousness, I truly hope everyone who has been following this fanfiction, has been immersed and on some level invested into the characters and narrative, and I would love to read your thoughts and questions if you have any (which I hope you do! :D) as I would really, truly appreciate such feedback.**

 **Also, I would like to point out that there are some dialogue sequences directly from the game in this chapter as well as the previous chapter, I felt that I couldn't completely ignore such wonderfully written dialogue that makes the characters we all love, who they are, but of course I adjusted it so that it works and fits in with my fanfiction's take and Aubrey's existence.**

 **Again, thank you so much to those who've followed, favorited and reviewed, although I know there aren't many, I'm very appreciative of the support. It is a great part of what motivates me to continue writing and uploading for this story, although it's not the only reason, of course, it is definitely a big part, knowing that readers are enjoying the story just as much as the writer.**

 **Thank you, and please enjoy :)**

* * *

 **A Moth to a Flame and Moon**

The scholar and Vampire, took their time strolling upon the path made almost perfect for them. They conversed softly under the warm sun, that energised both the tired beings. They were headed to Sans Sebastian, where Geralt would be searching for the Bootblack he had seen in the visions created by Resonance.

Aubrey was gradually gaining back her awareness and stamina as was Regis. She found that he was particularly less intense in spirit, he didn't speak as he usually did with full vitality. However, some things were as per usual. She listened kindly to his thoughts and hypothesis' of what had caused Dettlaff to begin the out of character, killing spree, despite the fact, she knew exactly what- whom had caused the circumstances. Rhenawedd … they would find her, she believed. In time she hoped, they would solve the past series of events, that have held the whole of Toussaint in its tight grip of fear and fury.

'Aubrey … I acknowledge you may not want to discuss such personal affairs, nonetheless, I believe broaching the issue is what's best for you.' Regis began all a sudden, inducing Aubrey to frown at his cryptic language. Whatever was he talking about? Clearing her throat, she peered out to the substantial body of water to the east, where many a boats and fishermen lured their lines and floated above peacefully. Beaculair Port was in sight straight ahead, the distance decreasing every step they took. 'I read the letter –'

'You what?!' She vociferated, conveying her thick Toussaintois dialect, like never before. Regis, awkwardly squirmed with his leather bag, twiddling his fingers. Aubrey, witnessed his reaction to her outbreak, feeling guilt yet complete and utter disbelief. He read it without her permission!

'Why … why would you do that? Out of everyone I know and trust, you-' She whispered, petting down her clothing, attempting to find the letter being spoken of.

'I am truly sorry. But you must know it had flown into a pile of my own notes and papers. It's safe and secure back at the cemetery. Please, recognise it was not in my intent to breach your privacy. It's not fundamental that we discuss it now, but perhaps you'd prefer to confer any inner turmoil to someone other than yourself, exclusively while we have time together alone. Geralt can wait a few or so moments …' He suggested softly, fracturing any enmity she felt within, as well as the space separating the two. Closing the distance between them, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her brown eyes, reached Regis' dark ones. Did she want to tell him? Not really, but she couldn't shut him out now.

'Yes … and no. Now isn't the best time Regis, and unfortunately Geralt can't wait for us, not for my problems. For it's not just Geralt waiting, it's Dettlaff, the rest of Beauclair. We need to keep going, we need to pretend it's not there so we can do this righ-'

'We … or you, Aubrey. You will struggle worst if you pretend it's not there in front of you, you will stumble, dwindle behind as it hinders your perspective.'

He was right … painfully so. What is it with Vampires and accuracy?

Moving his hand, he obtained the side of her face, tenderly embracing her skin. She felt the heart within her echoing sounds of joy, euphoria, she'd never been so close to him. She desired so badly, to take his hand, and hold it above her heart, to transform into a crying mess, praying for him to hold her in his arms, but that wasn't how reality worked … It wasn't about her, nor him, it was about the land, the people, and finding amity.

Aubrey, gripped his warm gloved hand in her own, lingering his hand on the strands of loose hair at her side, but instead, did what was necessary, pulling it away from the grimace displayed on her sun-kissed skin.

'Another time, another place, my friend.' She said simply, gifting a small smile to his worried expression. In return, he gave a nod, and they continued their journey to the outskirts of the city, to find the Witcher, bootblack, and answers.

8***8

'Get out of it you Gobermouch!' An unknown face shouted in the outer radius of Sans Sebastian, inducing Aubrey to giggle silently to herself, peeking at Regis to see an amused grin on his sharp face.

'No chance of that having something to do with Geralt?' She asked Regis, who chuckled.

'He has always had a knack for prying in one's business, so … possibly, yes.' He responded, receiving a boisterous giggle from the Blonde-haired scholar, as they ambled the city streets, and walkways.

Aubrey enjoyed being by Regis' side, studying the many buildings and people, hearing the bustling of life and society. She had been lacking in such experiences for the last couple of days, months, years even, but she was slowly sinking back into her old life, she could feel the change in the atmosphere, they were getting closer to the resolution, or some form of it.

Soon, they caught sight of a certain White-haired man, situated upon a chair, having his boots polished by the wanted and now found bootblack, they gave each other a glance, 'Geralt's bargaining with the young lad, he does not seem to be budging, nonetheless, I have just the trick.' Regis stated, smirking at Aubrey, who hummed in approval. Regis was always exceptionally skilled at coaxing people, including herself.

'When I clean boots, sir, I do not look up to see where folk come from, I clean!' The young boy explained, furiously sheening Geralt's rather dirty boots, motivating a light giggle to fall from her lips, which in turn, grasped both the boy and Witcher's attention.

'It seems you're having a rough go of it.' Regis said, as they both walked to the Witcher's side.

'Oh, you're here.' He replied, a little taken back at their arrival, 'Feeling better?' He asked Regis, while Aubrey smiled bemused by witnessing Geralt in such a position, getting his boots spotlessly cleaned, the boy seemed to know what he was doing too. He had a future ahead of him, she couldn't help but admire his determination.

'I am, thank you. The local necropolis … the air does wonders for me. Now, if I might intercede, I daresay I've the right question to ask.' He suggested, and not surprisingly, positively interceded. Motioning to a bottle within his leather satchel, he continued speaking,

'Young man, do you see this vial? One drop added to your boot polish will help you wipe even the most encrusted boot clean as the dome of Saint Lebioda's Cathedral.

With it, you will serve three times as many patrons at a fraction of the effort. Earn piles more. I'm prepared to give you this vial… if you tell me where the man we seek lives.' He concluded, in the simplest way of putting it, bribing the young businessman. However, Aubrey could sense his apprehension, which he did voice aloud.

'Uhhh… But… you won't hurt him, will you? The Gentleman's odd, true, but he's kind.' His genuine worry for Dettlaff, hit something within Aubrey, he was truly a good kid and certainly had a bright future ahead, she'd have to remember him, speak to the ducal court about supporting his business.

Kneeling down to his level, Aubrey offered her hand, in which the child took hesitantly.

'You seem to have established a rather valuable service, my name is Aubrey de la Savant, and you are?' She asked, smiling warmly, his eyes challenging yet polite, 'Bastien, Miss, how do I know you will not hurt my patron?' He questioned once more.

'This patron of yours is indeed a kind man, we're in fact very close friends with him, however, we had a small squabble if you will, and now wish to reconcile.' She said, gesturing to the three of them, and she found herself strangely amazed at how obscurely true it was. Although squabble wouldn't be the best wording. And he seemed to lose some of his defensiveness.

'I leave his boots at the door of a house near the port. The door is red. But I do not know if the gentleman lives there.' He spoke, more enthusiastically.

'Worth checking. Might happen of a lead.' Geralt declared, leaving their side. Aubrey, standing to her full height thanked Basiten, joining Geralt's side.

Aubrey and the Witcher watched on the sidelines as Bastien attempted to persuade Regis for a boot clean, which he politely and effectively declined, giving the boy the vial of future profit.

The trio continued on, down the pathway of dirt and cobblestone, relishing in the calmness and lack of stress.

'You two make a good team, handled that kid pretty well.' Geralt said, noticeably entertained by their teamwork, although Regis truly added the cherry on top.

'Finding the right approach- that's the trick to dealing with children.' Regis claimed, leading the way, as Geralt and Aubrey shared a look of amusement.

'Mh, yeah, saw that … Meaning, the right thing to bribe them with.' He settled, smiling at the Vampire.

'Touché, Geralt.' Aubrey giggled as they reached the port, the seagulls peaking in sound. She inhaled the smell of fresh water, air, breeze, and flora. Exhaling a deep breath she took in, following the Witcher and Regis, holding her medallion tightly, with a pleased smile. She felt at home, this was what she was meant to do.

Turning a corner, the squawk of ravens heightened in intensity, and an extremely familiar view sat in her sights.

'Look, red door.' Geralt pointed out, as the three of them stood outside the decaying toy shop, with the painted red door. Aubrey, felt shivers and goose pimples arise on her skin, she remembered this. She knew at once how and why she did, this is where her second meeting with Dettlaff took place, the alp, and drawing of a beautiful woman … Rhenawedd?

'Won't budge, gotta break it down.' Geralt articulated, pushing at the stubborn door, as the Ravens watched over them.

'You might just as well stand out in the street, pound on a drum and holler, "Dettlaff, I'm coming for you!" A bit more finesse, I implore you.' Regis advised sarcastically, extracting a humoured sigh from Aubrey.

'What would you suggest we do then, smarty pants?' She replied, simpering at his delightful sarcasm. If only she had her equipment, she could disturb the lock. She'd find a way in.

'Give me a moment.' He responded with a smirk, as both Geralt and Aubrey cleared the way. Observing his next actions.

They were in for a surprise, as the Vampire transformed into a fog of darkness, floating through the walls of the sturdy building, and clicking the timber door open, in a matter of seconds. The medallion atop her blouse, vibrated intently, inducing her to raise her shoulders as she and Geralt shared another look of amusement.

'Nice. Ever consider becoming a burglar? Skill like that'd come in awful handy.' He jested, in which the reply from Regis, was the fact that such a profession would be terribly dull. Not shocking for such a man as Regis, Aubrey thought, snickering.

'You two search inside, I'll stay here, just in case.' She offered, receiving a nod from Geralt as he and the ex-surgeon disappeared within the confines of the stone walls. The red door closed, leaving her outside, alone.

Relieving a sigh, she threaded fingers through her hair, brushing out any knots or unevenness in the strands, strolling carefully over to the wooden railing facing the openness of her homeland. She quietly analysed the people passing and travelling through this region of Beauclair, preparing to alert her friends in case of any interference, however she was yet to discover any.

Looking out to the water, she listened to the ripples, motions and behaviour of the element. What were they finding inside that dusty toy shop? Anything? A lead to the blackmailers? To Rhenawedd's destination, details on the murders, Dettlaff himself?

'What would you have me do, Pa?' She whispered, peeking up at the fair sky, hoping for some kind of answer. But she received none, nothing but her own gut instinct. Follow your gut, something he always coached in her, incorporating curiousness, intuition and general knowledge, and it really did help, on countless occasions throughout her life. Whether it was involving relationships, her profession, hobbies or even the simple things, like where she should go on a warm day off, what she should eat, wear. It had gradually become natural for her, to follow her impulses, like many others. It was a gift, a skill that you learn, and keep for the rest of your life.

'Apples for sale! One apple for four Florens!' A young girl cheered, walking slowly around the streets close by, holding a basket of fresh red apples, and pouch. Her dark hair in a long braid, clothing of rags, splattered with mud and dirt. The sight of food, induced Aubrey's stomach to rumble loudly

Aubrey, pulling out a pouch of coins, approximately 20 Florens, went over to the young girl, giving her the pouch, and taking an apple. The young girl, of course, protested somewhat at the amount of coin for one apple, saying she did not need it, but Aubrey refused to take it back. She herself didn't need the coin, she had enough.

'I do not need such coin Miss!' The girl insisted.

'Maybe you don't, little lass, but it's yours to have, I insist. These apples are delicious.' She convinced the young girl, taking her second bite from the crispy apple, savoring the fresh juice that came with the crunch. The girl bowed her head, thanked Aubrey and swiftly continued on her way.

Watching the child sprint off to her next customer, set a rare but understandable feeling within Aubrey's heart. Although she scarcely dwelt on the subject, she had always been fond of children, and had hoped of having a child of her own. In one phase of her younger days, maybe a few or more years ago, she'd met a young knight, of similar age. They began a rather healthy and loving relationship, he was cordial, kind-hearted and tolerant of her scholarly traits, however at the time, they were both hesitant to leave important parts of their hopes and dreams to start a serious family, deciding it was best if they parted ways and stayed on their chosen paths. She remembered him tenderly ever since, a pleasant wash of warmth taking over her body at the thought, as she went back to her previous spot near the red door.

As she reached her post, the door opened unexpectedly, throwing the apple core into the water, she met with Geralt who exited the building, casually finding his way to Aubrey.

'Find anything?' She questioned, anxious for answers, he nodded his head.

'Yeah, we did. We've raised another precarious issue, Dettlaff's lover has been kidnapped, and the kidnapper has been blackmailing him. The killings are all just a part of the plan. Regis is going to stay and wait for Dettlaff's return, I'm going to report to the Duchess. You should come with-'

'No, it's alright, I'll stay with Regis. I wish to speak with both of them.' She interrupted, grasping his upper arm gently, Geralt's golden eyes squinted at her, bewildered by her interest in staying.

'There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?' He questioned suspiciously, eyeing her carefully.

'I-I … yes, there is. But I can't tell you now, go report to Anarietta, tell her of what is happening. Whether or not she cares to hear of the truth, is not our problem, just get the aid you need. Stay perceptive Sir Geralt of Rivia, we're going to need it.' She said with a smile, receiving one from Geralt in return. Aubrey, leaving his side, paused, rotating to face him once more, sensing he was to say something.

'He'll work it out one-day Aubrey, just don't wait too long. He's practically immortal.' He said, knowing she would understand his words exactly, and she did. He knew of her feelings for Regis, always had, like she said, he was indeed incredibly perceptive. She lingered her stare on his lean form, as he found his way on the path to the palace. She chuckled silently to herself, fidgeting with her belt, finally entering the building that started it all for her.

8***8

'You can't stay here, he will catch your scent, won't appear.' Regis affirmed, distressed by her determination to wait with him. She could sympathise with such concern, but doubted he would not return because of her, Geralt, yes, but after their past meetings, she very much doubted he would do that.

'We've spoken, he knows I wish to help. He even helped me-' She began, only to be cut off by Regis, 'When?' He questioned, moving from the dark Davenport.

Mumbling quietly to herself, she ran fingers through her hair, a nervous tick she'd carried with her from a young age. 'Two nights ago, at the Palace gardens, it wasn't planned. We just … talked, about things … he told me of Rhenawedd, not much.' She whispered, gesturing to the sketch of the most likely lover of Dettlaff upon the wall. 'And before you- you, gods, I didn't know as much as I know now, I listened to him, and he listened to me, Regis.' She proclaimed, sighing deeply. Regis, standing tall, with his hand atop the desk, hidden beneath pieces of broken toys, and intricate tools, contemplated silently to himself. He never was one to grow mad, annoyed or anything of the sort, but she feared, just as silently, he was wounded. And she could understand, she should have told them. She should have told Regis …

'Well then, you truly are one to incite shock within me. You are full of surprises, and I've found I respect that about you Aubrey.' He smiled, turning to face her directly. 'And no, I am not mad. Thus, I'm content you chose to stay. From what you have just disclosed to me, Dettlaff must be rather fond of you.' He spoke softly, giving Aubrey the time to breathe easy.

As she scanned the attic, remembrance tainted her inner thoughts, and emotions. She remembered the candles, the drawing of course, the smell of dust and wood. The hanging puppets, the red door. This is where she stood, before she was kissed by a spirit, a pale woman with Auburn hair. The alp …

'You're experiencing a moment of retrospect? Are you not?' He asked, observing her forever changing visual expressions. She was, indeed.

'Yes. The second time I spoke with Dettlaff, however short the meeting was. He told me to meet him here, after our first encounter at the old mill … He trusted me enough to tell him the whereabouts of his hideout, whether he told it directly or not. Then, as I sat alone in the Palace Gardens, lingering on the letter from my late Father, he returned, preventing me from being a late-night snack for a Bruxa. He sat with me, reassured me as he read the words I should have read so many years ago … Why?' She asked, peering up from the floor, directing her stare upon Regis, who seemed to confused by her question, 'You know him, you're connected deeply. Why would he do that?' She asked once more.

'I, I can't be certain. Perhaps … he sees in you what he identified in Rhenawedd. A human, the sole human woman, who had shown him kindness, softness, charity. Whom he had fell in love with … and that goes without saying, he simply does not find genuine companionship in humans. It is not in his character, however, it is not exotic for him to feel sympathy, to aid those of the human species. Of your kind.

He is not immune to love, friendship, compassion, all crucial aspects of life. He is no monster, and never would wish to be …' Regis vocalised, signalling the entire building.

Aubrey, embraced his complex words. Kindness, she had shown him kindness, and so he returned such kindness, no different to anyone.

'I can understand why you're so close to him, determined to keep him from being called a Beast. I recognised those qualities within him when we spoke, he's a good man … Let's hope I don't get kidnapped however.' She finished, simpering slightly, causing Regis to glare a little.

'Sorry, too soon?'

'Thus, another reason he may be fond of you. He no doubt cherishes your light-heartedness, and perhaps childish behaviour at times. He is what you humans would call, pessimistic. A bit of happiness, jesting and humour can brew the most potent cures for doubt and sadness.' He stated soundly, seating himself upon a lone chair.

'Agreed.' She answered, joining the palm of her hand to the flaking wall, adorning the Woman's stunning face. 'We will find her …' She muttered quietly to herself, making a personal oath. 'I can't help but feel as if I've seen her before.'

'Funny you should mention that, Geralt had said something similar.'

'Interesting …' Aubrey thought aloud. If Geralt believes her to be familiar too, it's possible, they've met her before, but she would not dwell on it.

Seating herself on a seat opposite to Regis, they made concrete eye contact. Watching each other, Aubrey leaning back in the chair, fidgeted with her belt like always.

'I suppose you wish to discuss the letter now?' A gleam formed in his dark eyes, the tilt of his head reassuring her of the answer, 'My father, Victor de la Savant, wrote it for me, before he passed. A messenger came to me with the envelope. I did not ever see him before his death, he was on an expedition, he had said he found something, something so dearly significant. However, he never felt to tell me of what he planned to face, it felt as if he knew he was going to die.

And so, he most likely thought it was best for me to find out the truth from him, in some shape or form, but what he didn't know, was that I already knew … deep down, I was not his biological child. I was not a Savant at birth. And that is why I never read that letter until Dettlaff forced me to.' She laughed, although not enthusiastically, her eyes conveyed a different emotion, regret. Anger even.

'I am sorry. Have you ever thought to find your true parents-'

'No. And I don't believe I ever will. Not when his body hasn't even been discovered. Not until I can see him … a tomb lay in Mère-Lachaiselongue, a memorial for him, however, his body does not rest there. And so, I don't wish to see the people who abandoned me … They've done nothing …'

'I sympathise with you, I truly do. But … Perhaps, you should shift your perspective, they might be out there, regretting the truth that they left you, every moment they breathe, you do not know why they did what they did. Do you not hope to understand why?' He asked, careful with his words. Aubrey, although shamefully hurt at his question, knew he had good intentions.

'No, deep inside, I wish I could say I did. But I can't, I don't feel the desire, the instinct to find them. My Father was right, I can be stubborn, selfish even … however, I am not inclined to change.' She said, staring him dead in the eye, standing her ground.

'Fair enough…'

A brief silence met their ears, as they spoke to themselves within the safety of their own minds. Until, Aubrey, felt a fire burn bright inside.

'What of your parents Regis? If you do in fact have parents, as I'm not what you would say, an expert on your species.' She lightly laughed, smiling kindly. He rubbed his hands together, between the gap in his knees, as he leaned forward.

'We higher vampires, do in fact have "parents". Although, our views on parenting, childhood and growing up oppose the humans' one very much so. Our species are incredibly different, in many, many aspects, as you already know.

The Conjunction of Spheres, a subject I memorize intently, my "parents" taught me in depth, that concept at a young age. They taught me multiple concepts, relevant to the biological, anatomical and fundamental properties of our species of course, our true form and world and what have you. I was sent away as soon as they believed I was prepared for this world, and so, on many journeys, deaths and mistakes have I become attuned to this strange human continent. Or at least, as attuned as someone like myself could be.'

'Have you seen your parents since?' She asked, eyes wide in interest and eager.

'No. No, I have not. It's not a required mandate in our codex. There is an age, where we leave the secureness of our parents, and our relationship ends there.' He explained, motioning his arms in support.

'Wow … your views do differ very much so. While I waited for yours and the Witcher's return, I read some of your encyclopedias and books. There's three tribes, am I correct? Your species arrived via a portal, during the Conjunction of Spheres, same as us, and then segregated, travelling across the world. What tribe are you from?'

During the tedious wait for the men, she'd applied her thinking into some of the countless books Regis owned, discovering various lore and science associated with Vampires. Tribes, language, sub-species, laws, their old home, and of course abilities of the true higher vampires. It was incredibly interesting to read, both factual and myth-filled knowledge, the books segmented into, the origin of both, Vampires, and of course Humans.

'I had my suspicions you'd read those, nonetheless, you are indeed correct.' He began, hands articulating along with his tongue, 'There are three tribes, the Tdet, a tribe who travelled beyond the Blue Mountains into the East, Ammurun who migrated over the Great Sea … and finally, mine and Dettlaff's tribe, Gharasham, a tribe whom remained within the culture of Nordlings and Nilfgaardians, here.' He informed, waiting patiently for Aubrey to ask furthermore questions.

And she did, of course.

'You and Dettlaff are from the same tribe? Did you know him before he nurtured you back to health? When he found you in Stygga?'

'Yes, we did. Thus, I was deeply moved and aghast when it was revealed he was the one to heal me.'

'Why would you be shocked? If you knew him prior to that? Wouldn't you be more, unsurprised?' She laughed, alert for a reaction from him. A curve of his lips was her observation.

'We never saw eye to eye, I predict your species would call it. Our values and morals clashed, counteracted each other. I was different … I was ill-advised, reckless as a young man, and it cost me my life on countless occasions. Dettlaff opposed that very lifestyle, thus, we never connected, never sparked a friendship. At least not until after Stygga … Vilgefortz' He said quietly, looking out to the walls of the attic.

'Blood addiction … you were addicted to blood.' Aubrey whispered, experiencing a rush of shivers. He once was a predator, a creature, feeding on the blood of his victims.

'I learned from my mistakes, just like everyone.' He convinced her, standing, walking towards her sitting form. Peering up at him, she smiled softly, for a brief moment. Humming in agreement, she stood with him. Mistakes … everyone made mistakes.

They stood almost toe to toe, the crown of her head reaching his shoulders. Gazing into his notably dark eyes, she held in a breath, as to not shudder. He gazed right back, intensely. Her mind began to wander, scramble for answers. Fidgeting with the belt, she felt one single breath fall from Regis.

'He's here.' She knew who he meant instantly.

'Regis …' That familiar voice greeted the vampire, darkly.

'Dettlaff, it … it is good to see you, my friend. We must speak.' Regis said, leaving Aubrey's side. He stood in front of her, almost blocking her from Dettlaffs view entirely.

'I believe we do. Where is the Witcher?' The dark-haired man asked, his pale eyes finally curving around Regis, and meeting her own. She couldn't look away.

'He's reporting to the Duchess. I surmise they will plan what to do next. Finding the blackmail- the kidnapper, whoever took Rhenawedd. We will find her.' Aubrey said before Regis could answer, stepping into the open. Dettlaff nodded his head, glancing back to Regis who watched them both, curiously.

'Forgive me, Regis. I never wished to harm you, or … your friend-'

'I know, and so does Geralt now. We will fix this, I promise.' Regis reassured, going to his friends' side, grasping his shoulder. And that is when Aubrey noticed the gold and blue moth adorning his black leather over jacket. How she never noticed the beautiful brooch before, she did not know. But she found herself entranced with the item as Regis handed him something … The ring.

'May it remind you of who we truly are.' Regis spoke, releasing the ring into Dettlaff's hand. The dark-haired vampire, caressed the strange metal in his hand, applying it on his ring finger.

'What shall we do now? How long will the Witcher be?' He asked, glancing at both Regis and Aubrey. He was nervous, anxious to find his beloved. She felt his pain.

'We shall rest, wait for his return. And he will return, with hopeful news I believe. It won't take surpassingly long. He rarely ever lets one down.' Regis said, peeking at Aubrey smiling kindly, being the optimist, he really was deep down.

'No, no he doesn't.' She responded. As she went to seat herself down once more, she found Dettlaff's eyes on her. Intensely watching, not uncomfortably, however, she rather liked it. She felt safe and secure. A shield … a guard.

'The letters, containing your victims' names. Do you remember a face, a voice, a name?' Regis questioned Dettlaff, sitting as well. Interrupting the stare both Aubrey and he held for some time.

'No. Whoever was sent to deliver such information, was quick. They would pass by, leaving the note without a word, a glance.' He said, standing tall and confident, however, his eyes and expression betrayed any confidence. Guilt. That grim, disgusting churning of the lower stomach, chest, and head. A sadness, of knowing it was your fault …

A disturbed chasm enclosed the circumference of Aubrey, she could see the two men speaking, their mouths functioning, hands motioning, expressing a deep conversation- but she didn't hear anything. Not even the ravens cawing outside, not even her hesitant breaths. What was happening?

A single moth flew into the confinement of the dust-filled attic, it fluttered about, trying to find a way. It was almost concealed entirely, dull in colour, hiding away, it hovered, confused trying to find a light in the dark. It came closer and closer to Aubrey, delicate as a butterfly, small and vulnerable. She could hear a buzzing, as it floated to her hand. Sitting daintily on her tanned skin, watching her? She minded the small creature, lifting her hand to examine the being.

Aubrey … Aubrey?

'Huh?' She echoed, bewildered by what just occurred, as the moth moved from her, to a candlelight where it danced in joy. Relishing in the light.

'You know the Duchess better than most. Thus you could describe what we should expect from her?' Regis asked, a little perplexed by her behaviour. Aubrey, sighing, receiving a restless squint from Dettlaff, ran fingers through hair.

'Well, when Geralt indulges her with what we've discovered, she will most likely lash out, maybe become angered, however, she will come to her senses and not use emotion over thought to judge and act. She will do what she possibly can to help. Although she has a tough exterior, she truly is compassionate and considerate beneath the veneer.' She concluded, standing up once again, to pace nervously.

She began to doubt her choice of staying, maybe she should have gone with Geralt, assisted him in convincing her Grace. No, he would be fine, they were probably already progressing further into the search for the blackmailer. Geralt had a way with words, however blunt they may be.

'I've an idea. I shall be back in a few moments.' Regis stated clearly, leaving the two alone, as he left without another word. Ravens… he was going to send spies. Clever fox, she thought quietly to herself.

Fixed on the moth flying about the flame, she stood awkwardly, not exactly knowing what to say to Dettlaff, and it seemed he felt the same, however, his was subtle and hidden by elegance and confidence, unlike herself.

'How do you fare?' He asked, kindly. She knew why he asked, the letter …

'Much better thank you. And you?'

'I have been better. But I believe we will untangle this mess, and find my Rhena.' He muttered, darkly. He was determined to get her back, and it seemed he was willing to do anything. The gleam in his eyes, those strange eyes. So, clouded with guilt, anger even.

'She will be fine. Don't worry, we will get her back safe and well. You have nothing to fear.' She persuaded, conforming her stance to face him. She went further, placing a timid hand on his upper arm. They locked eye contact, she smiled shyly of course.

At times, it felt as if she were toe to toe with a wolf, a predator out to save a female of his pack. That apprehensive curiousness, care and worry, encouraged her to reach out and comfort him, yet the fear of losing a hand, an arm was severely strong, for all predators had sharp teeth, did they not?

'We will. And they will regret ever touching her. They will regret taking her from me.' And it was true, all predators had sharp teeth they revealed in due time, but would he use them? Honestly, she could not tell, but she felt rebellious, keeping her hand there. She wasn't scared of those teeth personally, not for her own sake, but for whoever crossed his path with ill-intent.

'Something tells me, no one who has ever crossed you-lived to tell the tale.' She whispered, a faint simper on her face, she hoped it would distract him from his own inner turmoil. It worked, it seemed, as he peered down instantly, stepping away from her. Shaking his head, he directed his clouded stare onto her.

'No, sadly. And I might like to keep it that way …' He responded, however, his tone was different. Noticeably not as dark and grim as usual. She smiled loosely, it was no topic to cheer about, death and betrayal, evil intentions. Sighing quietly, she glanced back at the candle, only to find the moth was no longer flying around the light source but laying motionless on the desk beside it.

'Dettlaff?'

'Yes, Aubrey?'

'What does the moth symbolise?' She asked abruptly, eyeing the pretty brooch, he seemed moderately surprised by her question, but acknowledged it all the same, 'I mean … why do you wear it?' She explained further, politely.

'It reminds me of a past friend. I bought it from a merchant many years ago in Ebbing, hopeful to gift him the jewel, but …' He began in a faint voice, but paused suddenly, a passing expression crossing his features. Pain?

'But?'

'He died … attacked by a group of bandits. He was a vulnerable target for them. A noble, with no experience of the world. Though, he was kind, generous, impulsive …'

'I'm sorry. He must have been a good man.' She apologized sadly, observing the moth even more now.

'Do not apologise. The bandits have already done so, and they did, their lasts words were of regret.' He was slowly following that road of darkness and despair, and Aubrey, for a reason she could not explain, felt she needed to bring him back. It was awful to see him so enraptured in grief and hatred.

'Why the moth?' She asked, patiently waiting for him to leave that path of despair.

'It fitted his character. In truth, you remind me of him. The moth, symbolises vulnerability, faith, intuition, a drive for answers, determination - and, subtle allure, an exclusively female trait…' Aubrey's body stood upright, at his final statement. The moth … a creature of extreme beauty. A creature attracted to light, to its doom. Navigating through the stars, using the moon as a guide, but it soon gets taken from its path, drawn to another light, candlelight …

Wide-eyed, she felt a twist distort her heart, a drop in her stomach. Brown eyes sifting the environment, they grabbed at Dettlaff, who perceived her with his own blue ones, no longer a pale green. She lost that aching feel, focusing on only his eyes, his face. Her candlelight…

8***8

Soon after, Regis returned from the port. He'd successfully communicated with one of the ravens, ordering it to find the Witcher and come back with the relevant information. Both Regis and Dettlaff decided it was best for them to wait at the Cemetery, to which Aubrey refused to join. She'd been to that cemetery enough over the past couple of days, in fact, she'd begun to miss the Palace, the safety of her room, her warm and comforting bed, her books, scaffolds, diagrams, the smell of her office. Regis promised to direct Tuvean back to the stables too. She nearly had nothing to worry of … nearly.

She departed from the toy shop just after the two Vampires did, leaving Sans Sebastian behind, and strolling past the Harbor Gate, through The Grans Place and finally reaching the gold adorning bridge. The sun setting to the West, as she climbed the steps and went past lovely flowers and trees. She was back home, but she knew it wouldn't last. She'd have to find Geralt and the Duchess who seemed to be out from the Palace. Of course, Aubrey knew Anna wouldn't sit on her royal behind forever, the idea opposed the Duchess' entire personality. But at least she had the night to herself … to read, to unwind the tension of not sleeping properly for the last week, not eating properly, not thinking properly!

Unnoticed, she slipped into her courters. Undressing, and stepping into the bath with cold water she filled herself, via a wooden bucket she found lying around. Going under completely, she forgot to breathe, to think, to move. Eyes open as she peered through the arcane water, the ceiling above was different. It motioned with the element, no sound, nothing …

But she had to breathe, she had to think, she had to move at some point, and so lifted herself from the slumber like trance. Scanning her room, she felt odd … alone.

Clumsily abandoning the bath, dripping the cold water about the marble flooring, she threw a towel around her body, going straight to the pile of her previous clothing. Cleaning, putting everything back to normal, something still felt out of place. Taking the Wolf medallion with her, she found her way to the desk replete with documents, files, and scaffolding of future architectural developments. Sitting, she leaned over the papers, glaring. A burning sensation began in her right hand, painful and out of nowhere. And she realised it was the hand holding the medallion, she was holding it that tightly, it was digging into her skin. Sighing deeply, she slid it over her head and left the desk in a huff.

Recklessly pulling back the duvet of her bed, she fell into it, the towel leaving her body, falling to a puddle upon the floor. The thick coat of water still on her skin, transferred onto the sheets, causing more discomfort for her. It was her whom was out of place…

All she could think of was her Father, and Dettlaff…

Their faces scorched into her conscious mind, a prison. Rubbing at her temples she bit her lower lip, digging the heels of her feet into the mattress.

'What is wrong with me!' She shouted, screamed, sitting upright, staring into the emptiness of the expanse of her lair. The lair she once called home, her only place of calm.

This restless, horrible quality sat, bubbling on her chest. She couldn't cry, couldn't sob, couldn't run into the arms of her Father, her Pa…

'Stop being so … selfish! Stupid …' She growled through gritted teeth, scratching at the soft blankets.

Fixing unsteady feet on the tiles, she left the bed. Sauntering miserably over to the glass pane window, where the moon shone light through. She was entranced, hypnotised by its light… But she could never reach it.

8***8

'Father, you're not seriously considering this?'

'Why not? Aubrey, my dear, if only you understood what this could mean for the future of the Imperial Academy. If I could gather a few samples, sketches, papers-We could learn so much more of the other worlds … the Conjunction of Spheres, we would shine a new light on the subject…' He wandered through words, convinced he could persuade her to not worry … to not stop him. In truth, he was trying to convince himself.

She leaned against a lone column, listening respectfully to her Father, taking in his words, but she would not be convinced. Who knows what he would face … If he went, he would never come back … and something told her he knew this too, which is why she couldn't let him go.

'Pa, I do understand, but is it worth your life? Your mortality? It's not worth that for me … Nothing would be. I thought you'd understand.' She whispered, leaving the column, going to his side. He untangled the messy strands of his dark hair, green eyes unevenly gazing the palace surrounding them. She noted they were glistening beneath the sun, tears?

'I know, my girl, and that is why … I must say farewell.'

'What!' She growled abruptly, grasping her Father by the shoulders, as he attempted to not face her. How could he?

'You can't, you won't! I won't let you!' She whimpered, cupping his face, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

'My Father wouldn't willingly leave me like this …This isn't you, what's going on … tell me? I can help!' She trembled, tears of her own forming.

'I-I can't tell you … you can't help me, only I can help myself. I'm doing this for you, now let me go … Let me go.' He spoke in between heavy breaths, caressing her hand. She couldn't, with all the strength, the courage she could muster, she couldn't let go, even if it meant her own doom.

'Aubrey, you have to let me go …' He said loudly, this time standing his ground. Unclinging her hands, he adjusted the bags over his shoulder, the belt, and his scrolls.

'You have to let me go, I'm doing this for you. You do not understand … and should never have to. I did not wish to leave like this, if only you weren't so determined … but that's why I love you.' He said, in broken sentences, turning away from her.

Walking away, down steps, never once looking back, as she stood beneath the sun, watching her Father leave her forever … What had he got himself into?

8***8

Eyelashes fluttering softly, she opened her eyes to the view of a pillow. Moaning into the cushion, she rubbed the crown of her head, scratching and yawning. At least she had found her way back to the bed, she laughed embarrassed by her outbreak. Another memory she hadn't dwelt on for years …

But it didn't answer the question of her dreams, she dreamt of Dettlaff. It was so … out of place, yet so perfectly there? She felt comfort once more, thinking of him. Like a light in the dark …

Withdrawing from the blankets and cushions, she stood in the harsh air, the humidity inducing loose strands to stick to the back of her neck. Time to find Geralt … she couldn't stay here, not when she knew of the task ahead.

8***8

Garbed in a long-sleeved, ankle length dress of thick yet cool cotton the colour of light beige and browns, a cloak, belt and Witcher medallion, she toured the outright, entirety of the Palace. Searching for the whereabouts of either Geralt, Anna or Damien, but they were nowhere to be found. She nearly lost all hope of finding them before mid-day, when she ran into a ducal guard, whom she questioned, almost interrogated before he gave her answers.

He told her of the Captain and his men searching for a Cintrian man, where they would return with any information to the Guard post near the port, and that is when she sprinted with the help of eagerness, determination, and intuition. Finding Tuvean waiting patiently in the stables, they galloped, pushed through the streets of Beauclair finding their way to the Port, that smelt of fresh herbs, spices, fish, wine, and water. It smelt of Toussaint.

Making her way to the Guards post, she jumped down from Tuvean, receiving glares from all directions, barging her way to the entrance. People were barely awake, it was still early morning, and she had never felt so alive and awake.

She could hear faint voices coming from within the dimly lit room, and it only added to her determination. She was ready to solve this once and for all, help them find this bastard and get the truth. A concentrated expression fought its way on her face, as she opened the door against the protests of waiting guards…

Aubrey instantly swore profanities as she fell straight into, the Duchess herself.

'What the hell?' Geralt grilled, as Aubrey continuously apologised, helping her Grace from the stumble. An extreme blush fell on her entire face, as she felt the stares from both the Witcher and Captain and their disbelief. And, of course, the anxiety of waiting for Anna to begin exclaiming her disapproval, of Aubrey's behaviour, but instead … she was met with a tight and sincere embrace.

'Where have you been!' She inquired, holding Aubrey's upper arms, examining every inch of her, checking for any sign of distress or damage.

'You don't want to know.' Aubrey exaggerated, heaving heavy breaths, smiling at the three who stood in front of her.

'Did you find anything?' She questioned further, directing her inquest more so at Geralt, who gave her a disapproving look. He wasn't fond of surprises, something learned long ago.

'Yeah, we did. An organisation is involved. And it seems the front man will be at a soiree hosted by the Mandragora, some elite artist club. Anarietta and I are planning to attend undercover, and see if we can't encounter the Cintrian in person.' Geralt explained, eyeing Aubrey carefully. She nodded her head, a little disappointed that she couldn't help and she knew he noticed. But they were both left perplexed when Anna interrupted.

'You have failed to append a supremely important detail, Witcher, Aubrey shall be attending with us. Invest in a pleasing gown, my dear, and Geralt will disclose the rest.' The Duchess divulged, exiting the rather small room. Aubrey, Geralt and Damien were left to stare, as they accepted their mission with exterior obedience, however, Aubrey was far from just compliant … she was over the moon with thrill and anticipation.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! I'm back again! This chapter ... this chapter you guys! I'm so excited but scared! I went somewhere I've never been... ever in all my writing history, and I would love for your feedback on how it went because I am worried I didn't do it justice ... but I did try!**

 **This chapter is a little or a lot on the mature side, I think, maybe not too bad because of my inexperience in writing such topics, but here it is!**

 **I really, truly hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please leave a PM or review including any feedback, thoughts, and ideas! I would love to hear what you think of what's going and where it's going!**

 **Thank you so much for the support! Please enjoy!**

 ***** Hello! I've recently updated this chapter, I've added some details I think should have been there when i first wrote this chapter, it's only small but for me very significant :) *****

 **LOVE IS NO FAIRY TALE**

That particularly warm Toussaint morning, Geralt and Aubrey decided to spend the day together, informal and casual. They both needed it, Aubrey thought to herself privately, as to not offend the Witcher, as he did appear noticeably worn out. They spent their time exploring the district of Hauteville, discussing Geralt's contacts, quests and experiences being in Toussaint again, all the while considering her own quests and experiences while he was gone. Many Toussaintois watched the White haired Witcher, and sandy-haired architect walk peacefully, with hanging jaws and wide eyes, a strange friendship to exist, they must have thought.

Strolling the streets, they stopped by one of the taverns, delighting in the well-cooked and appetising foods and drinks. Aubrey relished the sweet taste of Est Est upon her tongue, savouring her favourite White wine, this edition was from Castel Ravello she reflected silently. Whilst Geralt, decided to appetize his taste buds with Erveluce, a wine he was fond of very much so.

'Where to next Sir Geralt of Rivia?' She asked, with a mischievous grin on her lips, placing her silver goblet down on the clean and polished table. He glared slightly, his cat eyes almost glittering under the candlelight surrounding them.

'Why do you insist on calling me that? You've never called me that before … someone tell you something they shouldn't have.' He smirked, his tone grouchy.

'Maybe … Perhaps a little birdie did tell me something, a certain young knight with luscious golden locks-'

'Guillaume – Should have known, did he mention the investigation and tedious crusade I had to undergo?'

'He did mention it, I think … he said he would forever be grateful—He's young, and in love! Weren't we both like that once, you still are.' She persuaded gently, gesturing to Geralt as he took a sip of his wine, tilting his head swiftly, considering her words.

'I think you keep forgetting that I'm old, older than you at least. Sure, I'm in love, I can admit to that, but I'm certainly not young anymore. You, Aubrey, are young and arguably in love, with an irrefutable vampire.' He clarified, leaning back into the chair with arms crossed, a genuine smile on his handsome yet aging face. Shaking her head with a laugh, she picked at a slice of bread on the platter,

'Gobermouch. Sometimes I wonder if he does in fact know the truth, but pretends to be oblivious … and if that's the case, he would fare better to keep it that way. I do not think I could handle such explicit rejection.' She giggled, cherishing the piece of light, warm fluffiness of bread in her mouth.

'I don't know … Regis can still be pretty damn inattentive to the feelings and actions of humans. As good as he is at interpreting and empathising with our species, he does happen to overlook a lot of the important details.'

'Like the detail involving my stupid affections and devotion to him?' She asked rhetorically, scanning the environment. The Pheasantry, a rather popular Tavern of the District of Hauteville. She in fact helped renovate it a few years back. The counter, shelves and cladding of the built environment, made of one of her favourite woods, Mahogany, perfectly coated in oil. The owners have kept it in tact; the care and love put into the structure causing a smile to itch its way on her lips.

'He does care for you too, Aubrey, a lot. I've seen him look at you, when you're not aware.' He added, leaning forward once more. Although she hated to admit it, she felt a little feeling expand in her chest, hope maybe?

'He looked at me? How unusual!' She laughed kindly, earning a humoured smile from Geralt.

'If you saw how his eyes light up, and his smile grow, I think you'd understand. You don't know, he might feel the same way.'

'Ha, I don't think so. As much as I would love for that to be true, that isn't who Regis is. He likes and respects us humans, sure, but to love one …' She responded sadly, pausing to steal a fresh grape, 'That is a whole other story.'

'As is to love a vampire.' Geralt finished, stealing himself a grape.

'Or a sorceress …' She teased, laughing at how his eyes glared down at her, intensifying in colour almost.

'If you're gonna change the subject, you gotta put a bit more effort in than that.' He mumbled, swallowing down the last few gulps of Erveluce.

'Alright … have you heard from Yennefer?' She inquired, smiling a bemused smile as he raised his brows lightly. She could be cheeky, although it was rare for her to use that sort of cheekiness, she did enjoy it. But, she was indeed interested in how the sorceress of Vengerberg was, in fact she was interested in how everyone was. Triss, Ciri, Dandelion, Zoltan and the Witcher's of the Wolf school included.

'Yeah, I have. A letter, she'd found some interesting discoveries involving a Professor Moreau. Apparently, he conducted extensive research into Witcher mutations, Yen thought I might like to know his laboratory is said to be here in Toussaint, and she was right. I'm intrigued.' He said, pulling the letter from one of his satchels, placing it on the table crumpled, along with a map.

'Oh, his name rings a bell. My Father, he spoke of someone like that.'

She'd heard that name before, and when he mentioned the research in Witcher mutations, many thoughts, names and places flew past her mind. So familiar, she could almost reach out and touch the name Moreau.

'Anything specific you remember? Yen suggested I find his grave, where he was buried with his journal. His journal with the relevant information, leading to the laboratory. Nothing's ever easy.' He sighed, tilting backwards on his chair.

Professor Moreau … Buried here in Beauclair!

'Orlemurs cemetery … that's it, he's buried there. You should find his tombstone within that vicinity. When do you plan to begin the search?' She asked, finishing her wine.

'Could start today, find his journal, and see what happens from there.' He voiced smoothly, retrieving the map and letter into his small bag. She observed him carefully, reaching for a coin purse to hand to the Tavern owner. And that's when Aubrey realised, Geralt had upgraded his Feline armour. The navy, boiled leather appeared new, stronger, no scratches or signs of harm to the material. The leather shoulder and upper arm pads attached robustly to the chainmail mesh.

'You have met Master Lafargue?' She questioned with curious eyes, Geralt expressed slight confusion at her off-topic query, only to follow her eyes.

'It's beautifully crafted, well-suited for a Witcher such as yourself.' She smiled, following his movements, as they both stood. Nodding his head, he gestured to relieve a coin purse of his own as they found their way to the bench where the Innkeeper busily cleaned mugs.

'Geralt, it's okay. I will pay.' She interrupted, placing the small pouch upon the bench, giving a kind smile to the Inkeep. She turned to Geralt at the sound of sighing, yet was faced with a gentle smirk. A white-wolf revealing not a growl or snarl, but a lopsided grin.

'I would insist … but I don't feel like persuading you.' He spoke sarcastically, putting the coin away, inducing a chuckle to fall from Aubrey's lips.

'Of course. Always out to decrease stress and mountains of molehills … yet a thank you would be appreciated.'

'What can I say? I'm a Witcher, I make trouble go away.'

8***8

Aubrey contemplated the faint twinkle of stars adorning the pinkish sky, above Mountebank alley. The heavens were darkening, and the deep royal blue was seeping through clouds. Eyes closing softly, she was entrapped by the breeze flooding the streets, sneaking up the steps to where she and Geralt sat, comfortably waiting for the Duchess.

The fusion of upbeat and soulful tunes and harmonies enmeshed within her ears, playing about with her mind. The celebrations had already started, hopefully, they wouldn't miss out on Cecilia Bellante and her squeeze whom the name of they would soon find out.

'You know – I've never seen you dressed up before.' He interrupted politely, voice gravelly. Aubrey smiled bemused at the fact. They'd never seen each other so dressed up before, not in the time they had known each other, even when he stayed in Toussaint those many years ago. Sliding back, she faced him directly. His white hair neatly put together, mask of mahogany embellished with gold patterns, expressing just as golden eyes mysteriously. His attire ravishingly handsome, she simpered at the Witcher who would catch the eye of many tonight.

'No, we haven't … but I cannot describe how surprised I am to see you dressed ever so proper.' She spoke in an exaggerated posh dialect, receiving a swift laugh from the Witcher.

Peering down at her own clothing, she grinned. The gown, although not hers was gifted to her long ago. Her Fathers Late Mother's gown, according to him, his Mother was a fiend for red and gold, and she could respect that taste, the gown was beautifully crafted. Not too lavish, yet perfect for the event.

Smoothing her fingers across the burgundy over skirt trimmed with flickers of gold, the taffeta obeyed her rules and laws made by nimble fingers. The underskirt was now sat nicely, the heavier material of gold flaxen complying to her legs. Corset not too tight, sleeves maybe a little tight, itching at her arms and breasts quite prominent, she took in a deep, heavy breath. She'd never been dressed like this. Applying hesitant fingers to her hair done in a careful up do, she checked to see if any hairs were out of shape or order, coming to an agreement, she moved to the red mask that sat over the upper half of her face, fixing it so that it sat symmetrically on either side. Her limbs were shaking slightly, lip quivering and stomach churning. There was a reason why she never had to dress up, and that was because she avoided events like this.

'You look fine Aubrey, in fact, you look beautiful. Don't worry, at least you can act the part too. Sure, I look fiendishly handsome, but my personality certainly doesn't take the cake.'

She couldn't help but hurl over in laughter at his abrupt comment. Cackles upon cackles, giggles bubbling and chokes louder than the music erupted from her stomach. She couldn't believe it.

'Geralt! I don't know what to say … what do you mean your personality doesn't take the cake! Why do you think Yennefer loves you?'

'Are you suggesting my looks aren't above average?' He speaks elegantly and arrogant, standing with a smile. Peeking up at the Witcher, she takes his welcoming hand, standing on her two feet along with him.

'You're too humble Geralt. But in all seriousness, you are incredibly handsome and have a personality to match, don't ever think otherwise.' She grins, nudging him with her shoulder, brown eyes glistening brightly in reassurance.

A sensation of being watched soon overcome her however, and the sound of footsteps approaching caused Aubrey to stiffen. Observing Geralt turn to the approaching figure with a smile, she realised who it was. Anna.

Aubrey bowed respectfully, appreciating the fair and natural beauty of her grace, her gown of gold and blue, mask an off-white and gold. Royal and subtle in charm.

'Well, well … I did not expect the Witcher to have such a sense of style. And Aubrey my dear, you present intellect and finesse with ease. Red is no doubt your colour.' Anna spoke impressed, hands gracefully flowing in agreement with words. Geralt began to descend down the stairs, Aubrey following behind as she voiced her thanks.

'My, my, Geralt … Not bad at all. And you've even a splendidly adorned mask.'

Aubrey chuckled quietly at Geralt and his response, and how he questioned why masks were necessary, and she chuckled even more at Her Grace's following response. Oh, how she loathed social gatherings, with the drunken aristocrats and performers. But oh, how she loved the artistry and beauty of the locations and music.

Soon the trio was on their way to the local, and she recognised it instantly with fond memories. The estate she and her Father worked on together … Lady Orianna was indeed pleased with the outcome of their concepts and ideas. And that is when she realised why she was invited … she knew Orianna and was familiar with the residence. Adjacent to a column nearby to the entrance of the property, she observed the small queue and doorman along with the Duchess and Witcher.

'How do we find the Cintrian? Have you a plan?' Anna inquired.

'Key is not to spook him. Need to ask after his partner, Cecilia, first. Less likely to raise suspicions. Soon as we find her, we find him.' Geralt answered just as quickly. He was always good at these things, as much as he opposed the fact.

She eyed the people with caution, as she listened in on how Geralt came across some of the Cintrians thugs earlier today, after they had parted. And after people entered, it was their turn to greet the Doorman.

'Mesdames, monsieur, an extraordinary pleasure to welcome you to the Mandragora's soiree.

Tonight, I particularly recommend you direct your attention to the performances prepared by artists of our community…' He greeted them politely, with an added statement and advice. Geralt questioned further, asking about the acts that would be presented tonight, and Aubrey found herself exhilarated yet disappointed. They'd missed Cecilia performance, however were in time for Master Kalesti whom she had heard of fondly before, and of course the Tuven brothers whom she hadn't heard of before. She was eager to witness the Artisans perform in person.

'We were quite hopeful to meet Cecilia in person, you see, we're admirers of her work. Is there any way we could speak with her?' Aubrey stepped in, asking kindly for any chance of talking to the important Singer. He considered her query for a short time.

'I don't know where she is now, but I can give you a clue.' He answered almost excitedly.

'Let's hear it.' Geralt demanded, although subtly with a cover-up of anticipation.

'Seek the Koviri Orchid.'

Well, that was helpful.

'Meaning?' Geralt voiced both her and Anna's confusion.

'Cecilia wears one in her hair. You shall recognise her easily by the orchid.'

And with that, they were allowed to enter the boisterous and romantic scene of celebration. Noblemen and women, artists and performers drinking, chatting, flirting and dancing smoothly to the music of lute and percussion. The powerful scent of perfumes, food and wine filled her nostrils inducing a sudden intoxication within her.

'Well, well … Dandelion's always complaining about artists being poor as temple mice.' Aubrey found herself giggling at Geralt's remark as the three of them strolled to the stone barrier overseeing the soiree.

'The residence belongs to none of them. They are guests here. Orianna, she owns this. Woman in the black dress. There, on the balcony. Aubrey, you are acquainted with her are you not?' Anna explained, gesturing to the auburn-haired woman, watching over the party, solitary on the balcony.

'Yes, I am. My Father although, was more associated with her, a good friend she was.' A flicker of loss and pain touching her throat and chest. Apparently, they were friends before she was born …

'Koviri orchid, let's look for it. If we find Cecilia, we'll find the Cintrian.' Geralt announced, however Aubrey couldn't take her eyes from Orianna, who seemed to sense her from afar. They locked eye contact, and Aubrey could hardly notice the small smile gracing the woman's lips.

'You two go ahead, I'll speak with Lady Orianna, see if I can't acquire her help … I won't disclose too much though, so don't worry.' She stated, receiving their strong words of caution. Geralt gifted her a small smile, before leaving with Anna to the centre of the soiree.

She sauntered casually, head held high as to not draw too much attention. Silently, she made her way past plenty of celebrators, politely and gently pushing her way through crowds, receiving and sending off flirty smiles, to and from both men and women alike. She could feel the air was thick with romance and intimacy, the masks encouraged the behaviour and she found she liked it to an extent.

Coming towards the stairs, she paused for a second, to witness the beautiful illusions Master Kalesti created, the clear and fresh water transforming into free Dolphins, appearing as tiny crystals shining and sprinkling like diamonds, as he manipulated the element, floating above the ground upon a magic carpet, almost like a fairy tale…

Glancing around the residence, she admired the sculptures, columns, flowers and façade of the home. Pleased with the sight, she found herself slowly travelling up the stone steps, entranced with the tracery, exedras and ornaments.

Soon she was alone, upstairs on the balcony only seeing with the help of candlelight. Fidgeting with her skirt, she walked to the railing, placing a hand coldly on the stone. She could see Geralt and Anna strolling the grounds, testing out artist games and drinks, soon appearing like trackers, going from table to table, to find a lead on where the singer and Cintrian went off to.

'Aubrey de la Savant, what a pleasant surprise.' That distinct voice broke the silence surrounding her, that voice she heard when she was a young girl, a growing woman and architect. That feminine voice with a Skellige lilt to it. Orianna. Peeling away the mask, she turned to the fair lady.

'It is Lady Orianna … It has been too long. I am glad to see you fare well, you've kept the residence nicely in-tact.' Aubrey greeted, bowing her head in respect, peering under lashes to see the Auburn-haired beauty smiling just as respectfully.

'Of course, I've made it a priority to keep the work you and your Father, Victor produced, perfectly cared for… you appear in good health too Savant, how have you been faring as of late?' She asked, going to Aubrey's side at the railing.

Aubrey knew what she meant, Orianna was good friends with her Father, and most likely knew many things she herself didn't. Adjusting her position, she stole her eyes from where Anna and Geralt were and brought them to the strangely ageless woman. She hadn't aged a day, still beautiful and young as ever. How was she faring? How was Aubrey, daughter of missing Victor de la Savant?

'I suppose I am doing good, not as much work anymore, but I appreciate the time I have to relax and foresee hobbies and personal projects…'

'Hmm, just like your Father, young Aubrey. I remember before you were born, he passed through a particular phase, a phase of retiring and withdrawal. Time to himself, he was a busy man you see, but he changed his lifestyle … for you.' She said softly, smiling half-heartedly at Aubrey.

And Aubrey … she couldn't smile at all, not even flinch.

'Orianna – you don't have to pretend you do not know … I'm currently aware he is- wasn't my biological Father.' She whispered, turning away from the pale woman in noble clothing.

'I see … you read the letter-'

'How do you know about the letter?'

A long silence began, the two-woman stared into each other's eyes. Aubrey breathing loudly, whereas Orianna barely breathes at all. Her eyes wide, stinging for the tears that might fall, fidgeting with the skirt relentlessly, feeling the burn of her chest.

'Victor and I were close, extremely close… As you may be aware, I own an orphanage on the outskirts of Beaculair. Twenty-seven years ago, Victor decided to adopt, start a family of his own, and-'

'He found me …' She croaked, stepping away from the Red-haired noble, hands clenching into fists. Spinning away from Orianna, she shut her eyelids tightly, halting the tears from pouring out. Biting her lip, she prevented a sob. Breathe … Breathe … Breathe.

'Thank you for telling me … and for- for caring for me, caring for those children.' She said firmly, facing her once more, a small smile now on her now confident pink lips.

'Of course. I surmise you know the truth of your Father now …' Orianna began, but paused at Aubrey's sudden confusion … Her Father's truth? There's more? What else could he have kept hidden from her?

'What do you mean?' She questioned, nervous, voice quivering. A smile twitched its way on Orianna's lips, brown eyes gleaming in something Aubrey couldn't describe, and that's when she noticed a recent drop of red on the black rose … Thick, deep and dark. Aubrey couldn't tear her eyes from the substance sitting so still on the rose adorning Orianna's gown.

'Not to worry … all will reveal itself in due time.' She said cryptically with a devilish smile, wiping clean the red liquid with her index finger, bringing it to her mouth, and with a flicker of her tongue … she relished in the taste. That same wicked tongue then sliding over her lips in delight, stunning the scholar. Aubrey halted in her breathing at the act.

'Wine, I must have spilt some … I'm awfully clumsy at times.' She smirked, eyes glinting mischievously, as she turned to the approaching figures in the dark. Aubrey knew very well that it wasn't wine …

'Madame Orianna!' The servant yelled, running towards them, causing Aubrey to fall out of the frozen trance. The blonde-haired scholar forgot entirely the exchange between her and Orianna, when she saw Anna, with a clear expression of horror and shock.

'Anna?' She gasped, springing towards the Duchess, standing by her side.

'Aubrey … The Cintrian, he murdered Cecilia, slit her throat like a coward. Geralt, he's searching for any sign or trace of the brute.'

Gods … this night was slowly transforming into something far from celebratory, imaginative … it was dangerous, grotesque and enlightening all the same. The music continued to play on however, just like artisans and noblemen and women dancing and drinking, so oblivious to it all …

8***8

The servants or private guardsmen, Aubrey honestly couldn't decide, accompanied her, Anna and Orianna to where Geralt supposedly was. Orianna's own suite, where he had tracked down the Cintrian who seemed to have lost his own life in a fight to the death. A fight, a battle for something she did not know. But she knew then … Orianna certainly had something to do with it.

Aubrey stood quietly beside Geralt, who leaned casually on the railing, listening to Orianna and Anna, as they sat at the table on the balcony. All guests had left now, Orianna was forced to finish the Soiree, demanding the attendees to leave, and they did, they did with defiance. No longer was there music, laughter or chatter, only fire burning fiercely and a new determination within the Duchess, Witcher and Scholar.

'I caught him red-handed, attempting to burgle, rifling through my possessions.' The red-haired noble stated, drinking from a silver goblet.

'What did you do? Summon the guards?' Anna inquired desperately.

'There was no time. I feared he'd escape, refused to give him the chance. He stood with his back to me, so I attacked.' She began to explain the ordeal with intensity to match her hair, and finally, the three of them concluded, with the help of Geralt's voice, that she pushed him out the window to his death.

And Aubrey found herself disturbed by the encounter she had with Orianna before, she seemed so calm and content, not as if she had just fought to the death with a murderer, and then the rose … the rose with red came to mind. That was not wine …

Soon Aubrey was pulled from her thoughts, Geralt stepped towards the table with a glowing object in hand. Roughly the size of a coin, bigger maybe, but flat and shiny. Glowing vibrantly in colour, a jewel … the Heart of Toussaint.

The Cintrian was planning to steal the Heart of Toussaint … but why?

'Why, that's the Heart of Toussaint! Orianna, how did you ever come to have it?' Anna questioned with a rise in tone, shock evident on her now maskless face.

'I bought it. Many years ago, from a young woman.' She answered politely.

'Jewel seems important. Why?' Geralt asked, crossing his arms. Aubrey felt the drop in her stomach, knowing this would break Anna's heart, to revisit past memories. Not many knew Anarietta's truth, but Aubrey was among the small few who did.

'The heart is an heirloom, it belonged to my family for years … Then it disappeared. I didn't think we would ever recover it.'

Orianna then disclosed the thief had left his tool bag that held a perfectly drawn sketch of the jewel, not an imperfection or mistake to be seen …

'That sketch is uncanny … whomever this Cintrian worked for, there was a specific goal in his job.' Aubrey suggested, going to Geralt's side as they both peered down at the drawing.

'So … so it is not him we seek, but his employer.' Anna proposed, a slight hesitance carrying its way into her voice. Aubrey and Geralt sat down, joining the table.

Geralt then placed a hunting knife upon the surface of the wooden structure, a beautifully crafted knife holding the insignia of Dun Tynne, run by Roderick, a lord known for hunting. Anna and Geralt then went on to discuss Roderick and Dun Tynne, his family and Heritage and their next to be lead for the Blackmailer.

'Orianna, everything we discussed here, hope you'll keep it to yourself. Counting on it, in fact. Word gets out he, uh, failed his attempt to steal the jewel, his employer could run. We need to proceed cautiously.' Geralt declared, kindly however with a sharp undertone. And of course, Orianna agreed, happy to forget the events that had come to pass, as long as it meant she would be left alone.

'Ahem … Forgive me Madame Orianna, but might I have a word?' A servant interrupted, to which she excused herself to follow the man.

Soon, it was just Aubrey, Anna and Geralt at the table, the noise of cicadas perpetrating off the stone and through the trees and air.

'Orianna – Any thoughts?' Geralt asked intrigued.

'Few make me feel awkward, but in her presence, I sense anxiety, discomfort.' Anna responded truthfully.

'Nothing unusual, Orianna has an aura about her, an unpleasant aura, I remember it very much so now.' Aubrey elaborated, reassuring her Grace.

'The drawing – It's on the same type of paper the victims' names were written on. Drawn with the same ink, too. Seems the work of our blackmailers.' Geralt indicated to both her and Anna. And that is when it all began to fit together for Aubrey, and seemly Anna too, as she further explained the crimes committed by this clever villain. Aubrey eyed Anna, warily, for she knew that it would affect her immensely.

Geralt of course caught on as well, concluding that all this crime and horror was leading to one outcome, the death of Anarietta, which could be a possibility. However, there was more to it, and just as Aubrey suspected, Anna informed Geralt of her sad truth, her sister … Syanna.

Aubrey sat in silence, allowing her Grace to explain to Geralt what she already knew so deeply. The black-haired princess, treated like shit from birth … and wiped clean of, exiled as such. A sad story, not a fairy tale expected from the ducal court of Toussaint.

'Your mission has gained new import. You must go to Dun Tynne and if Syanna is there, you must find her.' Anna demanded ethereally, walking to both Geralt and Aubrey's sitting forms.

'No matter what she did, she is not to be harmed in any way, shape or form. You must make sure of that.'

Geralt and Aubrey locked eye contact, knowing his mission had not only gained new import, but risk, danger and jeopardy, and she would not let him face it alone, not even if he opposed the thought of her going with him to what could be her death. She would do this for him, for Anna, for Dettlaff and Regis, for Rhenawedd … and for Syanna, the lost princess.

'We promise your Grace. We will make sure of it.' Aubrey answered, still lingering her sight on Geralt, who flinched at her words, but didn't say anything to disagree. He knew this time, she was going to follow him to battle.

Footsteps, multiple footsteps echoed through the quiet estate. Aubrey dropped her eyes from Geralt, and directed them to the three quickly approaching figures.

'Your Grace, Geralt, Savant, I'd like to introduce …'

'Regis! What a surprise, I had no idea you were in Beauclair. And this is…?' Anna exclaimed excitedly, as the three of them stood to greet the uninvited guests. Aubrey and Geralt exchanged a swift moment of shock, more so her as he hid his rather well. Of course, Regis … you Idio-

'Uh, my very dear friend, Dettlaff van der Eretein, an arrival from Nazair. We are lending our combined resources to the Witcher's hunt.' Regis rationalised.

Aubrey felt, sensed those pale blue eyes watching her, peeking at the dark figure of Dettlaff, a burning sensation travelled down her spine, she smiled briefly at both him and Regis, holding his stare.

Dettlaff wouldn't let up and neither would Aubrey. She examined his tall figure, as he examined her shorter one. They kept their lingering stare upon each other, until she knew it would become noticeable to the others …

'They came to pay me a visit, so I invited Regis in for a glass of wine. We've known each other for … ooh, ages, literally.' Orianna made clear, inducing a sickening feeling in her heart … ages … she said the same for her Father those many years ago.

'Witcher, Savant, I hear you two know Regis? Even that you three are … friends.' Orianna considered, a bemused smile on her lips.

'Few I can rely on like I can on them. Kinda hoping they think the same of me.' Geralt defined, a small smile conjuring on Aubrey, as she glanced at Regis.

'Curious … it seems opposites really do attract.' The red-haired beauty commented. Aubrey found her brown eyes on the pale man, with dark hair and luminescent eyes, and she found they were on her as well.

'Don't be fooled, dear. Both Geralt and Aubrey have many Merits. They merely hide them from the world very diligently.' Regis said in his unique voice, a smirk plying its way on Aubrey's lips, as they sat down, save for Dettlaff who was making his way slowly.

'Mhm. You said you're both aiding the Witcher with his contract. It involves the beast of Beauclair, I suspect?'

Aubrey glanced up at Dettlaff who was currently involved in an incredibly tense stare off with Geralt … But he managed to find his way to the seat closest to her.

She sat, listening intently, just like Regis, as the conversation heated slightly, thanks to the inquisitive question Orianna asked Geralt. What a question … and what a table. Three vampires, a Witcher, Duchess and Scholar whom had a passion for such situations. The meeting of human and non-human, cultures clashing without knowing it, but somehow, an understanding being outlined.

'If I understand you correctly, you would rather help a monster than kill it?' Dettlaff insisted, directly to Geralt.

'If possible, yeah. Or at least try.'

'Enough about the Witcher trade for now … Regis mentioned you come from Nazair, I spent time there as a child.' Anna swiftly changed the course of the discussion, heading down a path of more light -hearted topics. Aubrey found it to be rather uplifting, and far from the dark, twisted truth at the heart of their current situation.

And with a glance at both Regis and Geralt, she watched as they left the table under the guise of finding some more wine … but more likely to find a place where they can argue without an audience … Why did Regis have to be so-so … she couldn't find a word to describe him, but she knew Geralt would.

'So, Nazair? I cannot say I've been to the province, however, I do have the famous blue rose seedlings shipped to Beauclair annually. Beautiful, an unusual colour for such a species of flower, a bizarre creation of nature itself.' Orianna spoke suddenly, pulling Aubrey from lingering in her own mind, and back within the table. She glanced at Anna who began to discuss her time there as a child, grey eyes illuminating with joy and remembrance of pleasant memories of childhood. She was so very beautiful when free of stress and tedious tasks made specifically for the ruler of Toussaint, Aubrey enjoyed moments like these very much so, finding herself staring at Anna talk and reminisce.

Aubrey had never been to the once independent Kingdom herself, but Father had without her a few times, travelling with the Ducal family for scholarly reasons he explained to her. One year, he brought home seedlings of the famous Nazairi Blue rose, and they grew a clutter of the flowers in their herbal gardens, they did live a long life but eventually withered in due time, just like all things, however, they were incredibly stunning and unique, gifting a scent of love, romance and strangely enough, eternity. Forever and always …

'Have you ever visited the province, Aubrey?' He asked deeply, politely, compelling her to twist on the seat so their eyes could meet. Those pale eyes, she recognised them continuously, always as she met them with her own … so familiar, kind now. Her eyes drifted slowly from his blue and at times green eyes, gazing at every singular, peculiar characteristic of his face. She found her sight focused on his lips and how they appeared so soft and caring, before noticing a smile forming and the fact she was still yet to answer. The table was silent, and she began to feel studied by the three of them, by him.

'No, I have never been, but my Father –'She paused for a moment, almost stumbling on her words but only for a short time, peering away from Dettlaff to her glass of wine, 'He has visited many times, he always returned with positive comments and experiences. I will visit one day, I'm certain I will, on a more peaceful day.' She whispered slightly, returning her eyes on him. He smiled kindly, nodding his head in understanding, holding the stare she had unintentionally initiated with him. An abrupt spike of energy expanded in her chest, a confusing yet pleasant energy and she found his lips melded in a gentle smirk, enchanting and contagious.

'Dettlaff, would it be intrusive of myself asking of your time in Nazair?' Anna chimed in, interrupted in a polite manner, inducing a warmth in Aubrey's face and skin.

'Not at all your Grace. There is not much to tell if I am honest, but my time in Nazair was calm, harmonious if you will.' He answered warmly, a smile in his eyes as he waited for Anna's response. Aubrey observed him mostly, finding herself entranced with him … unable to look away as he spoke.

'What of your family?' Anna questioned, eye brows knitted together slightly.

Silence. Pale eyes slanting lightly, lips thinning … Aubrey discerned his fading expression carefully, understanding, feeling his emotions. She understood.

'Sadly, I have no family there, no blood relations … My family are from far away, my true home is far.' He said quietly, relieving a sad smile to Anna who could only hum in consideration.

Aubrey did all she could think of, and placed a thoughtful hand on his own, under the table where no one could see, notice that their hands were clasped together. She kept her hand there, only leaving the comfort of his skin when she felt it was appropriate, when he gave her a tender smile, telling her he was okay.

8***8

'Well … That was, interesting.' Aubrey sighed, fidgeting with her rippled and messy overskirt. Regis chuckled lightly, peering down at her with a kind smile. It was just her, Regis, Dettlaff and Orianna now, for soon after Geralt and Regis returned from their private argument, Anna voiced her required exit, asking for Geralt's company. And he obliged, however with a worried glance at Aubrey as he left, after all she was now the only human within the estate, but with Regis by her side, she knew she was safe.

'Interesting? Yes, it certainly was thought-provoking, a Duchess amongst a small party of non-humans, the exception being you that is. Nonetheless, I believe it was undoubtedly necessary we had that stimulating encounter.' Regis indulged, eyeing her dress up and down. She giggled to herself, sensing his disbelief.

'Yes, Regis. It might come as a surprise but I do know how to dress up every now and then.' He smiled at her words, nodding his head as Orianna stressed her need to be alone.

The trio, exited the estate, stepping into the street of Mountebank alley. It was midnight, the stars high above floating and glittering, a cool breeze attacking Aubrey as she hugged herself.

'I think I need some good rest.' She said aloud, desperate to go home … She had a walk ahead of her however, and the thought induced her lips to thin.

'Regis … Dettlaff, it's good to see you again, but I have to return to the Palace … Duty calls, as well as sleep and a warm bath … or the other way round.' She laughed, shaking her head as she gestured to leave them, however was halted in her steps at the unexpected words.

'I shall walk you back … you've quite a distance to travel.' Dettlaff spoke, offered, surprising both Regis and Aubrey.

She stood still, surveying his features, his warmth and coldness, his handsome face … the face she continued to dream of. She wanted to refuse …

'Only if you really wish to, I would appreciate that.' She replied gently, smiling tenderly at the vampire.

'I-uh … I will return to the necropolis. Dettlaff, you know where to find me.' Regis uttered promptly, playing with his travel bag, 'Good night Aubrey, get some good rest.' And without another word, he left.

8***8

'Uh, tomorrow, Geralt and I will go to Dun Tynne, midnight. Storm the estate and find your Rhena.' She said in a whisper.

Her dress motioned with breeze, as they strolled side by side, along the streets of Hauteville. His radiating warmth managing to keep her from freezing.

'I know … You have done much for your home Aubrey, much for Regis and Geralt – Much for me.' He said thoughtfully, smiling down at her. She felt a sharp emotion hit her heart, causing her to look away as they neared closer and closer to the palace, and soon to her room.

'I am Aubrey de la Savant, daughter of Victor de la Savant. I am of Toussaint and we Toussaintois are known to be noble in our deeds … Ha, it sounds so cliché when I say it aloud, when I was a child, I felt so powerful and strong reciting such a verse. From a fairy tale it is, but life is no fairy tale.' She muttered, a strange desire forming in her, a desire to tell the truth. When she is with Dettlaff, she feels at peace, at serenity with her inner thoughts. Gods, she felt good when she was by his side. Peering up at him, as they stepped closer and closer to the entrance of her room, a door she sometimes used for a short cut, she noticed he had no expression …

'Unfortunately, you are correct Aubrey de la Savant. Life is no fairy tale … and neither is love.' He said faintly, with a grim smile.

Unlocking the plain door, she was drowned beneath candle light, and the sight of her room that appeared untouched. She felt conflicted, what would happen if she invited him in? Would he even accept such an invitation … and if he did, why would he? What was to become of them? Was she to go in her room alone, was he to leave her … The concept of being alone frightening her, the room seemed so scary … so dangerous …

A fluttering of wings entranced her, a small creature flew over her shoulder, delicately like a butterfly. She swore she heard a whisper … as it flew into her room, searching for light.

'Would you like to come in?' She asked before she could think, turning to face him. His eyes glared into her own, burning furiously … She felt shivers upon shivers upon her skin, underneath the thin enough clothing. His mouth twitched, and fingers jerked. She found herself drawn to him, breathing loudly as he stooped down, arm reaching over her head to the archway of the door …

Leaning in, every shudder of air felt like a gush of wind, his every breath on her face could push her down, yet she felt stronger … allowing his hand to caress her. She grasped at his hand, holding it there, losing all control.

'What is this?' She whispered, eyelids fluttering shut, as his lips touched her own. Sparingly at first, their lips made contact, until she gasped … his body pushing into hers forcefully, she moaned, falling into him just he did to her, the door closing behind them.

Tongues colliding, furiously they melded into each other, his hips kneading into her own, thigh in-between her legs beneath the gown. She played with his hair, fingers entrapped in the thick curls of black, as he guided them to the bed waiting patiently. Letting go of each other, both heaving heavy breaths. Sweat streaking her tanned skin, she peeled back her gown, ripping at the buttons, soon gaining his help, his nails were sharp no matter how much he attempted to not scratch her. The gown, newly ripped to shreds fell to a pool of blood and gold as she stood naked before him.

'You can touch me …' She laughed gently, taking his hand in her own, navigating it to her breasts. Her heart pounded loudly against her chest, and she noted the way his mouth raised at the sensation of it. His hand pressed, stroked and molded her soft flesh, soon both hands were kneading her, as their lips and tongue met once more, passionately. She could barely breathe and didn't want to as he touched her … gliding, gently lowering down and down, until she was shuddering under his every motion, his nose nuzzling into her neck breathing in deeply her scent as he touched her … never once stopping. Moaning … whimpering, her hands grasped at his own clothing, only for her legs to give out on her, and she fell …

Falling never felt so powerful, her back finding the soft material of the sheets … Her flesh bouncing in the movement. Sitting upwards, she watched as he circled the bed, eyes indulging in every aspect of her body … He was not human … no matter how much she tried to persuade, the way his eyes shone unnaturally, beautifully, as he stalked her like a creature hungry for flesh, only proved he was not human …

Anticipation made her nervous, as she watched him eyeing every inch of her, until he disappeared … the blood red mist filling her sight, and all things in front of her.

Everywhere … all over, his hands embraced her, cry's and moans left her mouth, she felt him everywhere. Stretching out on the mattress, she felt complete as he kissed, tugged at her skin.

She was roughly rolled over, a gasp exploding from her throat. She felt him, no longer a mist, but a man … An animal, taking her, her hands supporting her weight, she could hear his every grunt, every tremor of him. He thrusted, thrusted forcibly, her fingers latching onto the sheets, pulling. Teeth grinding painfully, she closed her eyes, grunting along with him, imagining his expression … She wanted to see his face, she wanted him to see her face.

'De- Dett…Dettlaff…' She moaned, shakily, reaching a hand over her shoulder, coming into contact with his hand that held her waist tightly, as he thrusted into her over and over again. His thrusts slowing down, gradually until she no longer felt the pressure in her lower stomach, or the pleasure of him inside her.

Rolling on her back, she smiled loosely, as he placed a gentle hand on her face, a worried expression overshadowing his carnal features.

'I want to try something …' She whispered, grabbing his broad shoulders, she motioned for them to turn over. Saddling him, she rested on his lower stomach, hands massaging his lean chest, his own hands gliding up and down her arms. Her tan skin contrasting violently against his pale visage. Something told her … his race, his species, his genetic makeup prevented him from making love. She did not know how he and Rhena made love … but she knew he wasn't used to the human side of sex … the emotional connection and she found herself shuddering as she rode him, slowly … biting her lip, elation and happiness building in her chest, tightness and pleasure building in her stomach and womanhood, as he followed her movements, moaning and grunting, holding her down on him.

Faster … faster, stronger, the bed rocked with her …

There was no guilt, sadness or reluctance. She felt a peace, as they lay beside each other, cuddling into each other. Finding comfort in each other, they needed this …


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone! I'm here with the next chapter! I'm so damn excited! Seriously ... I cannot describe how in love I am with this fanfiction! I think it might be unhealthy, I'm enjoying it so much! I really hope you are too, obviously not to my extent, but I really truly hope you are enjoying this so far!**

 **This chapter could be a little bit of an emotional baggage however, especially towards the end. I did my best to create a conflict that is realistic, and not over-done or exaggerated, yet holds a lot of meaning and strife for all the story and characters, especially Aubrey which it surrounds, as she is my OC and the main protagonist of this fanfic. I just hope you feel connected to Aubrey on some level, and find her a well-structured character, and possibly even very realistic and familiar.**

 **I want her to be a complex and relatable character, who thinks, feels and suffers at times, like any of us, who go through both life's joys, and life's heartbreaks.**

 **Thank you for all the support, including follows, favorites and my personal favorite - Reviews! I know I always mention reviews and feedback in my Author's notes (Or whatever you call what I write at the beginning of every chapter haha) It's just that I'm really passionate about hearing everyone's thoughts and ideas, I really wanna know what you think about the story and how I portray the characters! That's how writers improve!**

 **Again, thank you so much! Really hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **THE RIPPLE EFFECT**

'Dettlaff … Regis told me you're not fond of humans. Why is it you seem to find intimacy with them?'

He laughed at her unforeseen question, chest rumbling alongside the vibrations, her fingers resonating with the movement as he held her hand on his heart, Aubrey's head laying comfortably on his shoulder. Their legs entangled together under the blankets, embracing a subtle heat and warmth amongst their bodies. Aubrey had just recently awoken, eyes awakening to a figure lying beside her … and she felt something click, something fall into place.

'That's not entirely true. It is not about fondness, or approval. This world, humans and their deceiving, their habit of lies and dishonesty, I don't trust any of it.' His tone seeping in ice, and temper. Blue eyes meeting her brown ones, considering, pondering.

'Why did you trust Rhenawedd? Me?' She inquired, voice faint and lingering as she leaned on her arm, pushing her upper body from his.

'I don't sense deception, dark trickery nor greed within you. I didn't sense it in her …' He subdued to Aubrey, to her safe place. Her room, where only she had been, and now him. Nodding her head, lowering on her back; she seized her hand from his smooth, delicate skin. Greed, lies, deception, of course she inhibited those traits … It was natural, necessary at times to lie, to not tell the truth, it is so … human, a human quality. He isn't human, she had to constantly remind herself, he was of another nature… She couldn't lie to him, she felt a distressing pull at her chest at the idea of deceiving him, misrepresenting how she felt, thought.

Ogling his serene form earnestly, she regarded the way his eyes searched … searched the ceiling above, chest rising and descending heedlessly. Velvety lips twitching at times, fingers gingerly drawing circles along the skin of her arm. An aura of innocence surrounded his fair and mature exterior. That's what it was, the more she perceived his calm state, he was almost like a child, still learning of the world … so naïve to the horrors, the truth … the horrifying truth, a beautifully horrifying truth.

'What happened … when Rhenawedd left initially?' She asked, nestling the side of his smooth face in her hand, bringing his eyes to her. His fingers stopped immediately, abandoning her body, retreating away, further in distance. Blue grazed every inch of her, harsh and burning her smaller frame.

'… She … I was too beastly. She could not maintain our kinship, my attachment. We struggled, and she left soon after.' His words were corrupted with grief, sickly gloom, weary and passive. Aubrey caressed his cheekbone with the tip of her thumb, an attempt at remedying his pain, loss. 'Rhena, a beauty so uncommon. Comparative to a fairy tale, a princess … Yet I was no prince. I am no prince.'

Aubrey, with all his pain and suffering, all her heartache and sympathy, empathy even, she could not bring herself to speak … Rhena, a fabled princess loved by a vampire– Syanna, a lost princess, turned criminal under the curse of the Black sun, connected.

They were one in the same …

Mouth opening and closing, hand numb and eyes wide, she scrutinised Dettlaff. He did as well, eyes discerning the reaction she provided. The lost girl was using him … Sylvia Anna, princess, older sister of Anna Henrietta, victim of a curse that was yet to be proven … was Rhenawedd, the lover of this man, this being who killed for her … It all made sense, revenge.

'You're no beast Dettlaff, neither a prince. You're a creature of extreme beauty, for being here, by my side, breathing and alive.' She whispered, removing loose strands of dark hair hanging above his eyes, then only to leave his side, the bed completely.

She was too ashamed, reluctant to meet his stare … She desired so passionately to tell him, to explain what she believed to be true, yet would he believe her? What would he believe? She could not be the one to tell the truth, once more, she couldn't be the one to speak truth.

Traversing to the vessel of old, exhausted water, she inclined downwards toward the tub, sweeping a loose hand at the glass like surface of cold. She could sense his focus, his sights set on her. The mattress creaked, his form leaving the warm bed to join her own figure.

'I am sorry …' He said softly.

She interpreted his sudden apology for all too many things, events that had come to pass. The killings, her grief and Father, and last night. No, he couldn't apologise for that … please don't apologise for that.

Standing tall, rotating to face him, she shook her head recklessly.

His eyes expressed a frown, a misunderstanding. Grasping her face, cradling her in his hands, he planted a gentle kiss on her dry lips.

'Please don't apologise …' She hushed, pleaded sharply. His eyes squinting in confusion, bewilderment at her request, she smiled sadly.

Apologies were always final, just as final as the goodbyes said afterwards.

'Why?' He asked against her lips, his eyelids half open, nose digging into her cheek, descending down to her neck and collarbone, mouth touching her skin with shivers.

'I don't want you to leave.' Was her last request, as he took her mouth in his. Fingers tracing the contour of his body, she retained every single mark, pattern and sensation of his skin, as his hands stroked and sculpted every bit of her shape.

He took her … features metamorphosing to something she had never witnessed, claws that should have killed her, sunk into her defenceless flesh; instead they were kind, gentle. His teeth that bared like a wolf ready to end his prey, nibbled, scraped the surface of her, but did not cut deep. Every thrust, every kiss, every moan, every growl, she was in awe of. She was his … And he was hers.

8***8

For the rest of the cooler morning, Aubrey and Dettlaff suffused in the tub filled with newly collected water, delivered daily at later daybreak. The vampire watched her with a smile, cherishing her scent and appearance, as she placed Lily-of-the-Valley flowers in the bath. She could see the smile under lashes, while scrubbing into her skin. She was fiercely focused on the beautiful creature sitting quite relaxed opposite to her.

'Now I understand why you emanate such a sweet fragrance.' He chuckled, lifting a lone white flower from the water, observing the plant closely. She peered up at him, adorning a large grin. It was her favourite flower to bathe with, she loved the smell of it, it was utterly sweet, but not too strong or overpowering. Her Father's favourite flower.

'I will take that as a compliment.' She giggled, playfully brushing a foot against his thigh. His eyes gleamed at her, a smirk teasing on his lips.

'You are sweet as a Lily, and kind as a Blue bell.' He muttered, moving from his spot, and finding his way to her. His torso leaving the fervour of the now lukewarm water, he leaned into the scholar, light-heartedly nibbling at her vulnerable neck. She laughed freely at his antics, hugging him with all her heart and spirit…

Soon after their short time of peace, and serenity, her room was emptied of any trace the Vampire might have left.

She sat dressed and clothed, perched on her made bed with sheets neatly placed and garnishing the wooden frame and mattress. Fidgeting with the Witcher medallion, she envisioned the final confrontation with the blackmailer at midnight, under stars and a crescent moon. The confrontation with Syanna … She closed her eyes tightly, a painful regret sitting on her chest, she knew once more a truth that could change the course of all, yet did not confess to anyone. Not even the man she shared countless intimate moments and secrets with, in the duration of but a few days. The man who trusted her, the man who did not sense any lies or secrecy … Just like with Rhena.

She couldn't ponder on her mistakes, like Regis said, it would only cause her to dwindle behind, she would either have to disclose them to someone, or acknowledge they are there and move on with them trailing closely behind.

There were also the secrets clouding her Father and his disappearance, there was so much she didn't know about him … her own Pa.

Sighing, she left the comfort of her bed, deciding to do some work, something useful to help with the attack on Dun Tynne.

8***8

For hours, she was seated at her desk, nose deep in papers, diagrams, and blueprints of the fortress of Dun Tynne, writing descriptions and plans and advice for the Captain and his guards to use.

Abandoning the davenport, she held the scrolls containing the crucial information tightly, and went on a path to where she knew Anna would be, waiting and pacing. The exedra up in the Palace outdoors area, overlooking the great expanse of the Land of Fables. The vassal duchy of Nilfgaard she called home.

It was a bit after mid-day Aubrey noted to herself, lightly sprinting on her feet, passing and traversing through guards and ducal nobles. The sun was hot and relentless, but she quickly forgot the sensation at the sight of a nervous Anarietta patrolling the hut, in her cardinal red gown, the sun causing a bright reflection upon the chestnut haired royal, a glint on her crown and jewels.

Decreasing to a smooth walk, Aubrey approached the Duchess expressing fidgeting hands, breathing loudly in huffs.

'Anna.' She said gently, gesturing to the seat close by to them, Her Grace smiled, nodded in understanding. They both rested on the stone chair, giving Aubrey time to put the scrolls together.

'Aubrey … Do you believe Syanna could be capable of such scandalous crimes?'

She didn't know how to answer. Peering down at the ground, Aubrey gulped a tedious amount of saliva.

'Never mind … The answer is simple … her crimes are undeniably appalling and shameful. Yet those very crimes are painfully justifiable. She is my sister, Aubrey. I am terrified, I know she should be punished for her actions – but my heart will not let me do so … I cannot, and will not treat her like a common thug.'

'She is your sister, and your love for her is justifiable. You are Duchess Anna Henrietta, and you will do what you believe to be right and fair.' Aubrey murmured hazily, placing a hand on Anna's. Grey eyes met brown ones, and a sad smile pulled on the Duchess' lips.

'You are always kind to me Savant … just like your Father, Victor - I surmise these are for Damien. I will provide them for him prior to his departure tonight.' She said just as softly, taking the papers from Aubrey. She was rarely this distraught, Anarietta was known for fiery passion, yet love and compassion for her sister could both intensify such dedication, or take it away entirely. 'If you truly plan to accompany Geralt, you will require suitable attire … the armoury is welcome for your use. Go … and promise to be careful … bring back my sister.'

8***8

Boring into the glass, gazing over her reflection … she experienced a drop in the stomach, or maybe a flip. It was nearing midnight, she was to leave for the Old Mill in but a few moments. Geralt knew she would be coming, she felt it, she felt his irritation and worry almost, a sense of impatience. This time, she was not going to allow him to face a battle alone, not a battle like this. She knew he was capable, the White wolf – One of the most famous Witchers, and for good reason. But he was her friend, her Brother in arms almost. The thought itching a genuine smile to come through. She may not be a Witcher of the wolf school, nor a knight's errant but she was Aubrey de la Savant, and she knew how to wield a sword effectively enough.

'Let's hope I survive this …' She chuckled heartlessly, analysing the steel plate armour donning her smaller form. It was the tightest fit she could scavenge from the Ducal armoury, and that was not saying much. The breastplate was almost perfect for her, however the pauldron overlaying the breastplate – not so much, it was heavy on her shoulders … The memory of carrying bags upon bags as a young girl flashed by, applying more weight on her shoulders, chest and back, pulling her to the ground almost.

Eyes grazing from the gorget to the sabaton covering her boots and feet, she felt empowered, not much could get past the steel, her vulnerabilities were mostly her wrist, upper arms, armpits and of course the face. The blood red fabric shown through those defenceless areas … She would have to be careful.

Adjusting her trusty leather belt hanging around the waist, her fingers altered the position of her sword suspended from it. She was ready, appearance and courage both.

She trudged through corridors, exedras and archways, past guards and scholars alike, feeling their wide eyes and agape mouths. A bashful smile found its way on her moist lips, as she tried her best to strengthen her nerves and limbs. The armour was heavy … so bloody heavy.

'Sorry Tuvean, I am quite burdensome at the moment. This fucking armour is burdensome!' She said aloud through gritted teeth, drawing a gasp from a nearby stable hand as she hopped up on her noble companion with a struggle, the black-haired animal shaking his head comically.

'Pardon my language!' She apologised to the young man, before whistling for Tuvean to increase his trot to a gallop down the slope, through the gardens, making her way to the old mill one last time.

8***8

'You look … different.' Geralt said plainly, leaning against the peeling façade of the mill, its paint just as worn as she remembered. She laughed lightly, distancing herself from Tuvean as she made her way to the Witcher. The night breeze managed to cool her down to a comfortable temperature, seeping through the vulnerable areas of her armour.

Sand crunched beneath her hefty feet, marking footprints in the smooth ground. The moon reflected light off the polished steel, inducing a sigh from Aubrey as she realised how strange she really must have appeared.

'I feel different. I predicted I would need such substantial attire in order to actually aid you in your mission.' She said, standing at his side, he squinted, eyeing her up and down.

'You're not going to move as swiftly wearing that amount of steel … you don't need the pauldron.' He replied, immediately sliding the layer off her shoulders, ignoring her protests that soon transformed into an exhale of relief. Finally, she could move her neck - The steel fell to the sand in a ruckus, metal clanking and nearly hitting her right foot. 'Neither the Gauntlets or gorget … in fact the sabaton and greave don't need to be there to protect you either. Who helped you?' He asked irritated, kneeling down to unbuckle and unstrap all the unnecessary plate. She rolled her eyes, running fingers through her braided hair.

'No one, I did it myself …'

'Now it makes sense-'

'Hey! If you're going to be like that, I'll leave!'

'Good, then I won't have to worry about-'

'Geralt! I'm not letting you go without me … I cannot, I will not.' She retorted, face heating up, free hands wiping away the out of place sweat droplets simmering down her skin. Geralt paused, almost biting his tongue. She wouldn't let him go without her … She's done that too many times before.

'… Aubrey … The vambrace needs to go too.'

She peered up at Geralt, all stress and tension disappearing completely at his smirk. Allowing him access to unbuckle the thick metal plate from her elbows, she sighed only to be interrupted by her own mutters of self-loathing.

'I promise I will be much more helpful when we arrive to Dun Tynne … I can actually move now.'

'Told you so. You even appear more impending … you're not just a gigantic troll.' He said, before nudging her gently, gesturing to guards atop their noble companions, trotting towards them. Captain de la Tour and his soldiers.

'So eager, are you? The mill, then. We shall discuss the assault inside.' Damien spoke, ordering them both to join the guards within the brick walls of the mill.

As they made their way in, Aubrey noted how the Captain looked back and forth between her and the pile of steel plate sitting unnaturally at the entrance, his expression conveying puzzlement, but he seemed to let it go, nodding respectfully towards her, most likely for her support.

'Thanks to Lady Savant, we've an outline for our points of interest' He began, while placing the papers she had made up hours before on a rotting desk, only light source being a few wax candles, 'Dun Tynne is a modest complex – several old buildings, a high wall around them. At the centre of the enclosure stands an imposing keep, restored not long past by the elderly knight of the castle, Roderick.' He explained, gaining everyone's attention.

'We mean to strike here, through the main gate, then secure the area in front of the keep by storm.'

'How many men defend Dun Tynne? You know?' Geralt inquired, sending Aubrey into a trance, how many men would be there? Just doing their job, perhaps not exactly knowing what they were defending? Did Roderick even know?

'Roderick maintains a team of knights for defence. They are no army, but they could number several dozen. Also, Roderick recently took in a band of foreign mercenaries. About them, we know very little.' Syanna's or that Cintrian's men most likely, Aubrey thought gravely to herself.

'Cintrian's men, gotta be. Ran into a few in town – they tried to kill me.' Geralt disclosed, causing Aubrey to shudder, 'Need to hit them from both sides. You draw the defenders, keep them busy. Aubrey and I'll sneak in the back way, find the women, make sure they come to no harm… We'll vault over the wall as soon as you start the assault.' Geralt finished, enticing Aubrey to peer down at her leather boots, she was in for one hell of a fight … Courage, have courage.

'Your plan puts you both at great risk … but I sense you will handle it well. Let us go.'

8***8

Déjà vu, simmered powerfully in her blood, as they all rode over the bridge of the Cockatrice Inn. An atmosphere thick with nerves and danger, they were all heading for what could be their deaths … Or at least her own, she was terrified. She'd never intentionally directed herself to such peril, to such a situation where she would be forced to fight, but she understood deep down, it was what she needed to do. This was to end it all, to bring back the lost princess, bring closure to Dettlaff, to bring peace to Geralt and Regis, to restore love for Anarietta … and for her land … her Father.

The Inn was empty, no light shone through the cracks or windows of the old building, again she felt calm when glancing at the clay and brick, adorning green moss. Even if the colours were pale and faint under the dark sky, embellished with shining diamonds above, she found it beautiful in age.

With the silent agreement between Geralt and Damien, she and Witcher parted ways with the rest of the men, galloping at full speed on a road leading to their destination.

She could feel the air hitting her eyes and face, whipping at her hair and skin. Tuvean and Roach rode fast and steady, a continuous pace.

Geralt and her didn't speak a word, she was too frightened to speak … And she knew if she opened her mouth, she would no doubt swallow an insect.

8***8

'Ye Toussaint bitch! Ye will pay for that!'

'Oh, she will pay … I believe we could make her squeal, pleasure or pain!'

'Ha! Or both!'

Aubrey stood tall, sword still sheathed and breaths even. She appeared unshaken by their words, their threats. The family hiding behind their cart, shivered and cried in fear. The little boy watched her carefully, tears stinging at his blue eyes. Merchants and travellers were common on this road; however, guards and Knights were not common … And so, with that came bandits and criminals; people with impulses even they were scared of.

'I am Aubrey de la Savant, daughter of Victor de la Savant. I am indeed of Toussaint and we Toussaintois are known to be noble in our deeds. Leave us peacefully, and no harm will be done to any of you.' She yelled confidently, somehow keeping at bay the dread and horror she felt only moments prior, when she first witnessed the men, bashing the young family around.

She was on her way back from an expedition when she caught the scent of death, the horse was mutilated. The four men from most likely the Northern realms tormented the innocents.

She expected them to – Well she didn't know what she expected them to do … The three men laughed, the exception being one tall and lean man, quite handsome really, disturbingly so. He appeared so out of place. The others were almost from a story, so grotesque in their actions, especially when one pulled out his … He began peeing on the ground before him. The stench raised severely.

'Well Aubrey, I am Ovo son of a motherless goat, and I would like to fuck ye noble Toussaint mouth with my Temerian cock!'

She was forced to look away, the desire to unsheathe her sword and cut his … his thing right off was so intense, she had to look back at the young boy. He glared at the men, hands clenched in fists, tears falling constantly.

'I told you once … I will not tell you again. Leave, and no harm will be done to any of you.' She demanded, this time sharp and harsh, through gritted teeth. A hand on the hilt of her elven sword, willing to do what was necessary. The tall brunette-haired man, with familiar eyes, stared her down, no expression upon his face. He had not said a word, neither to disclose where he stood or what he thought of the situation. His motivations were unclear, and so were his origins. There was something about him, the way he observed her …

'Well we ain't leaving! All we wanted was the whore!' The repulsive one yelled, pointing at the woman hugging tightly onto her boy and partner. She scowled, nose crinkling fierce. Something changed in Aubrey …

'Say that one more time … I dare you.' She challenged, taking too many steps forward. The afternoon was eerily quiet, no birds to be heard, no wind or movement around them to be seen.

He smiled at her lewdly, glancing back and forth between her and the woman crouched down, shielding her family with wide arms. His every breath was horrid on her face, they were about the same height, his pecker was still out, and he was the stuff of nightmares.

'All we wanted was the whore …'

He couldn't even blink, elude the attack or scream in agony. All he could do was gasp, frozen in spot. Cussing and shouting peaked in the background, but all she could focus on was the family. Aubrey sprinting away from him, swerved around his stone-like figure, to stand in front of the three huddled innocents. The others were heading in the same direction, but she was quicker.

'The harlot cut his fucking cock off!'

She held her sword out in front of her, a trickle of blood leaving the metal, both hands tightly wrapped around the hilt, feet placed strongly on the dirt and soil. They circled each other, the one who announced her previous action was the first to come at her, his steel sword high in the air.

She easily managed to evade his hit, his sword swinging to her right, as she pivoted to the side. And she striked, melting through his wrist with the blade. Possibly cutting through his Ulnar artery … Not her problem. The smell of an unmistakable substance filled her nostrils and she gagged. Shaking her head, turning away at his cries and shouts, she felt the next man behind her. He struck the side of her head with his fist, inducing her to stumble sideways, almost dropping the sword completely.

There was a clash of steel, the swords crossing over each other, the force and pure energy of the collision pushing them both backwards, yet she was not prepared for his adjoining charge.

The next blow sent a fiery sensation down her spine and up through her stomach, he kicked her in the crotch, yelling countless profanities. A stinging began in her lower abdomen, causing her to drop all defences.

The hairs on her head, her scalp screeched in pounding aches, her neck strained and unnaturally bent backwards, she faced the man who held her hair in his hand … pulling. His stare was furious. A glare befell her eyes, the steel reflected sunlight directly at her sight, he was so close to beheading her -

Swinging a leg up to his face, an inhuman crunch echoed through the lonely road. He whimpered, letting her go instantly, his nose broken.

Getting a grip on her weapon, she roared a war cry … He was so vulnerable and weak to the following onset. He was hurled over, clutching his nose with bloodied hands. Yet as she held the sword above her head, ready to bring it down to his level … she couldn't.

She couldn't do it ... She couldn't do it …

8***8

The abstracted ringing of bells clouded her hearing and moment of retrospect, no longer was she present on a near-abandoned road by the Arthach Palace ruins, returning from an expedition her Father sent her on a decade ago. She was currently on the outskirts of Dun Tynne, beside Geralt. They peered at each other, 'So it begins…' He said, initiating their move to climb the defence walls surrounding the keep. His hood was up, shadowing his golden eyes and scarred face, he appeared so experienced. He gently pet her shoulder, then made his way over to the walls.

Aubrey, paused for a moment, conflicted with her choices, from the moment she first decided to follow her Father's career, progressing to when she decided to befriend Geralt and his Hansa … and now, to this moment where she thought back to the first time she had fought, discouraging her from repeating such a situation, no matter how much she felt she was justified.

The memory was in no way pleasant, those men were lost, missing honour for others and themselves, and the Family, they would never forget that Spring afternoon. That young boy would live with the imagery of her and those thugs, fighting brutally for the rest of his life, who knew where he was now … Perhaps he was married, had a lovely family … or perhaps he was a soldier of farmer, scholar or knight … But he would always remember her, and how she protected them from violence … with violence.

Surveying the way Geralt operated, made use with the structure of the wall; grasping the uneven bricks and stone, the sturdy vines, she planned the climb. She knew what she had to do, but as she stood, prepared to run, sprint to increase her momentum, she felt frozen, trapped in place …

Geralt was nearly over the wall … The sounds of battle and fighting came from the main gate, and further inside … Come on, Aubrey … Come on-

A flutter of wings, distracted her from the sheer panic and fear. A tiny creature, flew over her shoulder, on a path following the crescent moon above. The moth, ascended to Geralt, higher and higher, until the illusion of it finally escalating closer and closer to the moon caused it to vanish, disappear.

Capturing one deep breath, exhaling through her mouth, she ran. Legs motioning with powerful energy, the thinner steel plates rattling with her movements as she jumped. Feet applying pressure at the base of the wall, pushing her further up. Hands seized an ill-matched brick, and she scaled the wall. Reaching the roof, she took a moment to breathe, calm her nerves and muscles. She watched Geralt jump down to the ground. A spiral of dust following him, as he unsheathed his steel sword.

'Let's dance.'

Aubrey unsheathing her own sword, jumped to his side at the signal of his taunt. The impact sent tremors up her legs, nothing she couldn't handle …

The Witcher and Scholar, glanced at each other as Roderick's men materialised their own weapons. 'You take the archer!' He shouted, signalling to the soldier releasing swift arrows in their direction, missing by a hair. She obliged, leaving his side, sprinting for the lone archer.

On the way, she dodged and evaded and skidded through stone and dirt, escaping multiple projectiles from the archer.

When she stood in his circle, decreasing his time and space to draw another arrow, he dropped the bow, grasping a spiked shaft. Inducting a defence stance, she allowed him to observe her, he circled her, and her eyes followed him.

Jumping back, she almost fell to a false step he took, causing the man to snicker at her reaction. Tightening her grip on the sword, she did the same, however brought herself to the ground, throwing a handful of dirt and gravel at his face.

Coughing and attempting to rub the dust from his eyes, he gave her time to launch herself closer. Swinging at his lower thigh, she heard the sound of metal on flesh. The blade teared into his quadricep tendon, causing him to fall to the terrain.

'Don't get up!' She threatened, before leaving him to cradle his leg.

She found her way to Geralt who had fought his way to the gate leading deeper into Dun Tynne, closer to where the keep would be, where Syanna would be.

'You alright!' He shouted, simultaneously parrying and deflecting projectiles and attacks from spears and swords, not one drop of sweat falling from his face. He was practically dancing through the soldiers, spinning and twirling his sword, incorporating signs to offend and defend. He cut through them like butter.

'Yeah! Look! That must be Roderick! He is trying to escape!' She yelled back, pointing to a cart blocking their way. It was replete with crates and bags, weapons and food. Aubrey could shakily inspect the men guarding it and Roderick, as she and Geralt traversed closer and closer, through the slim streets of Dun Tynne.

They made their way through the thick air, tainted with blood and sweat. Aubrey had multiple encounters, skirmishes with defending soldiers from both Roderick's loyalty and the Cintrians. She parried, sidestepped, shuffled, stumbled and fell, only to be lifted up from the ground by Geralt, who then executed the sign, Quen, preventing her from being hit by an axe coming straight for her head. The large mass of muscle and armour rebounded from the explosion of the shield, allowing her to stand, as Geralt left her side to fight a few others and Roderick himself.

She was left with a mountain of a man …

Throwing his axe, he cracked his knuckles, tilting his neck with a crunch. He was going the old-fashioned way she thought bemused. He stood at about six foot something. She was towered by a giant, she was about as insignificant as an ant to him. She really wished now she kept her armour the way itwas, even if it meant she looked like a gigantic troll, at least this fight would have been fairer, she failed at reassuring herself.

Sliding the sword into her scabbard, she accepted his one on one, hand to hand combat. He laughed, of course.

'You're a brave little bird, I'll give you that. But your feathers seem to have already been plucked!' He insulted, gazing over her form disdainfully. A fellow Toussaintois, she noted, taking in his accent and lilt.

'Touché.' She replied on ready feet, both hands a few centimetres in front of her face, held up in fists. He duplicated her stance and post. They compassed each other, going around in a circuit. Every now and then the mountain would deviate forward, causing an adrenaline rush over and over within her.

'Come on chicken! Hit me!' He urged, his features mutating into ridiculous expressions, taunting her. As you wish you troll!

She lifted her right foot, and swung at his leg, inducing a bloodcurdling cry to explode from her throat.

'Fuck!' She screeched, her ankle radically burning, like a hammer permanently pounding on her foot. His heavy armour was tough, and so was his skin. Just like a Rock troll …

A boisterous laugh fell from his lips, as he mock limped towards her, to then take a jab at her face, to which he missed as she was agile enough to duck, and bypass to his side.

She then spun, rising in momentum and exertion, back-fisting him in the mug, 'You bloody troll!' She exclaimed, grasping her hand as he shook her attack off like it was nothing. He continued to belittle her, taunting and counteracting her every advance with sadistic humour and threats. The anger and impatience began to bubble within her chest, until she couldn't take it. She released a loud battle cry, running at him full speed, skidding to a spot where she could easily touch his moustache, and raised her fist with all her strength and stamina.

She couldn't help it as she roared in victory. The mountain of a soldier was flat on the ground, arms spread out and face dazed, blood pouring from his mouth, his teeth scattered around the floor he lay on.

'Damn … That was one hell of an upper-cut.' Geralt commented, stealing her attention away from one of her most memorable foes. She felt a moment of incredible pride and honour, hearing his compliment. He settled behind her, glancing at the fallen giant, 'Come on, we gotta keep moving. We're getting closer to the keep, once we reach the entrance, you need to infiltrate the tower, top floor, while I distract them. Make sure Syanna isn't harmed.' He commanded, as they both made their way up steps, only for Aubrey to halt in her movements, eyes growing wide. Geralt noticed her actions, coming to a halt as well.

'You know as well, don't you?' She whispered, out of breath. He seemed to understand what she meant, peering at an injured Roderick, holding a cloth over his wounds. There was never a hostage … Only a princess out for revenge.

'Let's keep moving.' He replied, eyes downcast as they continued to ascend the steps.

At the last step, they were faced with five of the Cintrian's … or Syanna's men. They were unaware of her and Geralt's presence, as they overlooked the outer Baily where Damien's men fought with Roderick's men. Aubrey took the time of peace to observe the inner ward they were currently standing in, or at least close to. She could see the keep. So damn close …

'Giving you one last chance – yield.' Geralt announced. The men readied their crossbows, as the most likely commander or head of charge cowered behind them, ordering them to kill her and the Witcher. They didn't have much time to react, but Aubrey felt her breathing hitch painfully, as Geralt stood in front of her, protecting her from their aim. If it wasn't for the mist that thawed, glided across the ground, trapping the men where they stood, the colour of death and blood … She would have protested, cried in alarm.

She and Geralt watched on, silently as they screamed in fear and panic. Being dragged into darkness, bloodcurdling cries and whimpers, last breaths forged their way into her ears …

Dettlaff and Regis.

They both appeared from the mist, materialising in their physical forms, from bestial to human. Her medallion hummed slightly, vibrating on her chest.

She nodded towards both Regis and Dettlaff, however received no response from either of them. Dettlaff was so clouded by bloodlust and fury, while Regis … He willingly did not even glance at her …

'They shall pay! For everything!' Dettlaff roared, transforming into beast once more, as the four of them descended another stone staircase, leading to the inner courtyard of the keep.

As the vampires wreaked havoc on the soldiers, Geralt only initiating combat when threated, for self-defence, Aubrey stammered in the direction of the doorway, the entrance to the keep … She felt hurt … an aching pull, an anchor pulled at her heart. She felt something, an atmosphere of disapproval from Regis … Fear, anxiety, dismay for the outcome of their arrival. This was not going to end with a favorable outcome … for anyone. She had to get to Syanna …

'Aubrey! Watch out!' Geralt hollered from behind her, causing her legs to give out. Stumbling to the ground, she peered up slowly, prepared for the sword to sink in her chest, but instead found Dettlaff standing before her, she analysed his glowing eyes as they analysed her. A soldier lay next to her, weapon in hand, dark liquid gurgling from his mouth, innards hanging from his abdomen.

Gasping, she struggled her way onto both feet, shivering in disgust yet relief.

She nodded her head in thanks, granting him access to determine her condition, blue irises glazing over every inch of her body. She could sense the transition in his aura, from worry to rage, madness.

'Wasn't expecting to see you two here.' Geralt stated, gruffly. No longer were there any present threats, and Dettlaff had left her side to join Regis and the Witcher. She followed loosely, meeting eyes with Regis who appeared so distressed, withdrawn, cold every time he caught sight of her …

'Witcher. This is no time to explain. Where is Rhena?' Dettlaff desperately questioned, sharp and to the point. She felt a stab in her chest, a disappointment, a loss … She was terrified for what was to come.

'Expect to answer a lot of questions inside.' Geralt replied with an irritated tone, gesturing to the keep. And with that, Dettlaff was striding with fury to the entrance …

Regis and Geralt traced his steps, but Aubrey … she stayed behind.

She couldn't go in, again she was frozen in spot. As if hands sprouted from the ground, scratching at her legs, digging their claws in, dragging her down into the earth. She failed Regis, he no doubt knew what transpired between her and Dettlaff, he was disappointed in her … She failed Dettlaff, ignoring the truth that could have changed how this would end, he would find out the horrible truth in a battle zone … She failed Syanna, she would face Dettlaff's wrath, perhaps not even make it out alive … She failed Anna, her sister would be condemned by all, again if she even made it out alive … And Geralt, she failed him … She promised to aid him, to help him …

She failed herself … She lied to herself once more, she ignored all the mistakes, the signs of what her actions could cause, the consequences. They were all right … All of them, she was so selfish, naïve, aware of everyone else, of their potential demise … but not her own. She was so impulsive, naïve to what could happen …

Life was no fairy tale. She was no Savant, she was just a girl … A lonely girl, who because of desire for love, family, importance, and purpose, became her own self-destruction.

The fire, horrifyingly beautiful, ignited smoke and ashes. She looked on as Dun Tynne burnt, the stars disappeared for her, the moon was gone for her … She had no guidance.

Tears pooled her sight, damaged her perspective. She dwindled behind, disrupted by the truth she avoided for so long. There was nothing for her here, all she had, died with Victor when he left her … Her so-called Pa … Her so-called family … If he truly cared for her, why did he leave!

Breaking the medallion from her neck, she threw it to the ground, tears flowing down her face and falling to the ground along with the silver. Unstrapping her belt, she released it, the clatter of clips and the blade echoing in her head.

She looked away, hands clenched in fists, fingernails digging into her palms. Biting her lip, she kept the cry, the wail that threatened its way out. No, she needed to leave … Go far away.

And so, Aubrey, turned away from the keep, from all that waited for her, all that expected her. She turned from her responsibilities and walked away.

8***8

She sat on the sand, fingers playing with the soft grains and rocks as she looked out to the pink sky. The body of water ahead of her sunken form was calm and gentle, reflecting the rising sun to the East. She glared with tears painfully leaving her eyes, head aching from the crying and sobbing she had fell to while finding her way to this empty place. She felt ill, vile.

The anger subsided, the pure rage of what she exposed to herself was no longer attacking her mind, heart or body. It was only grief, guilt, mourning left in her.

She was so tired … Exhausted with everything and nothing …

She felt naked, vulnerable without her medallion, elven sword, belt … The belt, the belt she had received from Victor for her fifteenth birthday. Geralt probably found it … Wiping away the tears and liquid pouring from her nose, she stood.

'Why did you leave me?' She croaked, fidgeting with a rock she dug from the ground.

'Why did you leave me? Someone answer me … I need an answer … I waited so long for your return. I waited so long … I've waited too long! I'm sick of waiting! I'm sick of everyone lying! I'm sick of the lies, the secrets! I'm sick of the truth! I'm sick of it …' She screamed, voice breaking, cracking. She kicked sand, sent the rock flying into the water. Ripples came about …. As it sunk to the bottom she assumed, falling back to the ground.

'Fucking coward! You're a fucking coward!' She sobbed, whimpered to herself, grasping her face in both hands, nails burrowing deep.

'Every action, every choice you make … conceives a ripple in time. The calm waters will motion, perhaps subtly at first. Your actions, choices, may disappear in time, but the ripples … They live, they spread, expand. The consequences outlive even you, even I.'

Him …

'Why do you choose to face everything alone?' He asked. Not kindly nor impatiently. His tone was deprived of any emotion, motives or reason.

'Please answer me …' This time, it wavered, conveyed something strong, something she'd never heard before.

'I beg you … All I have ever asked of you is to be honest. This sorrow, melancholy, resentment within you, is profoundly misguided. Contrary to what you may conclude; my disappointment … it's not at all aimed at you. Please Aubrey … say something.' He pleaded.

The tears continued to flood, chest and ribcage replete with fire, ready to explode, ready to implode. Holding a hand on her mouth, she prevented another sob to fall from her throat.

She hated that he was here, that he was witnessing her in this condition, this self-hate, pain, and violence. This was not her …

'Aubrey … This is not the woman I admired, not the woman I honored- You need to be the woman who stopped at nothing, the woman who knew the way through peril. The woman who always laughed, smiled, cherished the good and bad. You need to accept who you are … Accept the past, the present … and future to come.'

'Maybe … Or maybe I was never that woman. Maybe I thought I was, because of the company, because of the people I loved, because of you. Because I loved you!' She called out, standing clumsily, pointing at him recklessly. The vampire did not hesitate to disagree, dark eyes brazen with opposition. He shook his head, not bailing out, keeping her stare.

'See! I knew it … I tell you the truth, I be honest and you won't accept it! You won't accept I love you! And you wonder why I don't tell you, why I face things alone!' She almost laughed irrationally, face red, eyes heavy and hands grasping her hair. The laughter, boiled over, taking over her. The laughter was pure insanity, but it gradually sank, laughter soon became convulsing wails. And she shook her head, attempting to stop. She tremored in her spot, it felt as if she was to faint any moment.

Eyes closed, too afraid to contemplate his reaction to her outburst, she failed to see him walk to her side. The touch of his hand on her own was enough to stop the crying. Something was placed in her palm, something smooth, metal?

Clutching the item in her hand, she knew what it was immedaitely ... The Moth.

'We need you, Aubrey. Dettlaff needs you.'


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello! I'm excited to present the next chapter of my fanfic!**

 **Again I would like to say thank you to those who read this story, and I hope it's interesting and unique!**

 **Thank you for the support, and please don't hesitate to leave a review even if it's only a small one! I would love to read what you think of this fanfiction, reviews are very important to me as It can help me improve my writing, characters, story and most important ...**

 **Make this story as interesting and enjoyable as I can for you to read!**

 **I want you to have fun, feel some feelings and connect with characters! Or even just have a relaxing time, coming home from school or work to read some good old fanfiction!**

 **Thank you so much, and please enjoy this (shorter) chapter! Next chapter should be up soon! :)**

 **Also just a quick note, not too life-threatening ahaha But I just thought I'd mention a song that I feel fits this fanfiction very much so, Aubrey, Dettlaff and Syanna especially, in fact in a way, it fits many of the characters of the Witcher universe, both books, and games. It's called** **Paint it Black** ** _by Ciara._** **It's a beautiful and haunting cover of the awesome original song by The Rolling Stones and I love listening to it and imagining Aubrey being apart of this amazing universe. If you have the time, you should definitely listen to it!**

 **THE PAST CAN ONLY BE ACCEPTED**

'I- I'm sorry Regis … The way I acted, the things I said, it wasn't me. I failed you, I failed every-'

'Failure? No, failure is exclusively when an individual surrenders their inner faith, hope and fight. The conflict within diminishes when failure triumphs, the battle of oneself is immortal within all emotion-driven beings, and rarely ever leaves …'

'Why does it feel like failure? It's as if in a moment of second-guessing, hesitance … It feels like the world comes crashing down on you. But now … I look back and see nothing but clouded fury, how do we do it? How do people come back from that?'

'I am not sure Aubrey, that is a question that has never, and likely never will be answered. Thus, I rarely ever ponder over it, there are so many theories and beliefs. Souls, afterlife, deeper meaning, and purpose … Science, the abilities of consciousness, sub-conscious, brain chemicals-'

'-What do you believe in Aubrey?'

He interrupted himself mid-sentence, causing them both to come to a sudden stop. The pause allowing her to eulogise the sweet, fresh and kind air of the flowers, wind, and land. She peered up at the now blue sky, glancing back at the Cockatrice Inn they passed once again. What did she believe in?

Of course, something she did believe in, what she believed in was hope. Hope was crucial, part of all life and experiences no matter if it originates from a soul within or the many doings of the complex sentient mind. Her best friend was hope, hope that one day her Pa would return, hope that maybe her true parents would find her, hope that Regis would appear with a confession of love for her. But hope was also her enemy, and she did not rely on it as much anymore, hope was in the past for Aubrey. She admires those who still live and learn by the beautiful entity of hopefulness, but she was not that person. Not anymore at least, not for a long time. She did hope, but never relied on it.

'I believe in love and friendship I suppose. That is something that everyone can agree on I think, and it is what I strive for.' She whispered, studying his reaction. The tall, pale Regis, swapped his weight between one foot to the other, nervously contemplating her words. She knew exactly what was passing his mind … Her confession.

'Sorry, I-'

'No, Aubrey … Please do not apologize. I truly, deeply respect your courage to unveil your honest feelings. Although, I must ask … Is it true? Do you?' He inquired timidly, voice smaller than usual, dark eyes focusing everywhere but her own. She smiled at his almost shyness, so out of character for the charismatic and intellectual vampire.

Yet, as she pondered on the question … Did she love him? Did she ever love him? In all honesty, the more she thought and justified her feelings and scrutiny, she didn't completely understand what romantic love was supposed to feel like. She cared for him immensely, she would do anything for him, just as she would for Geralt … She admired them both, the Witcher and Vampire having a rather significant influence on her. She learned so much from them both, she'd learned much from many. A new courage and fire to stand for what she believed in, something she never had before meeting the White wolf, a confidence, and appreciation of her own feminine and masculine qualities from Milva, Cahir and Angouleme; and of course, a wit and sarcasm, a whimsical humor from Master Dandelion.

Then Regis … She learned a passion, a strong and strange feeling. She felt for the first time a pull, a sensitivity of attraction and fascination with another being, she was infatuated. She still was … She watched him and felt the urge to touch him, to express affection. But was that love?

'I was smitten – Yet, I don't know if it was love.' She laughed, although not intentionally, it was a loose and hollow laugh, not belittling nor amused. A laugh that almost … almost was vacant of any emotion. A laugh of emptiness.

She witnessed with a slow kindling devotion the movement of his lips, a kind smile playing about on his face.

'Aubrey de la Savant, the sole human to be smitten with a vampire … You're unusual and bizarre, but nonetheless, delicate and sweet.' He enlightened, reaching a hand to the moth, Dettlaff's moth that adorned the red cloth adorning her body. The gold and turquoise trinket bedecking her chest … 'He needs you Aubrey. Dettlaff needs someone who will stay by his side, and accept his nature. And you need him. I believe you will find what you seek within him.'

Regis' words replayed in her thoughts as they continued on their journey to Corvo Bianco to meet with Geralt.

Dettlaff van der Eretain … Betrayed, lied to, used just as she believed. Syanna, Rhena, it was all a ruse. She hated what Sylvia did to Dettlaff… Dettlaff. Every time she thought of him, she wanted him by her side, to reassure him, to hold him close, to prevent pain and loss. He was so lost … So angry, so confused, so hurt. He desired the truth. Why did Syanna do what she did? The more she judged, perceived all that had happened, the more she felt … the more she felt his pain, his blame, his wound. She was just like him … Deep down, she was just like him. She was betrayed by someone she loved despite all the denial that sat ready on her tongue … That was what hurt the most, that was what twisted the blade in her heart, deepening the wound. She still loved him. No matter how mad, how distraught; she could not hate him or question his actions, his love for her.

8***8

'Aubrey, my dear, would you mind giving the package to Artorius? He should be in the Ducal library, west-wing most likely.'

'Uh, sure.' She answered hesitantly, going to the davenport where the wooden box sat cautiously close to the edge, inducing a soft giggle from her throat. Pa always did that. Grasping the box in her arms, cradling it guardedly like a newborn, she inspected the object, but could not discern what it contained … probably books she persuaded silently.

The scent of familiar flowers soon inflamed her nostrils, its sweet fragrance hypnotising her for a moment.

'More flowers Pa? You're beginning to become a true botanist!' She laughed, aiming her amused eyes at the man huddled over a table, organizing and sorting through countless herbs and plants, among them being those kind little white petals. Lily-of-The-Valley. Struggling but mostly carrying the weight well, she sauntered to his side at the desk. His green eyes analysing, counting and double checking.

'Perhaps I am little gvalch'ca.' Her Father smirked, eyes squinting in hilarity, soon reaching her waist. 'You're wearing the belt I see. It suits you very much so.' He said casually, casting a quick glance and smile in her direction. She nudged his shoulder gently muttering a thank you, causing him to chuckle. The dark brown hair falling over his face like usual. She couldn't comprehend how he still appeared so youthful and ageless. Not one wrinkle or age mark, no flaw on his rather tanned skin. He was so young in appearance, too young.

'I'll be back empty handed I hope, don't work yourself too hard.' She voiced one last time, mouthing a swift goodbye, as he watched her leave.

Leaving her Father's quarters, she was vulnerable to the outside, away from his presence, away from his protection. Shaking her head, she suppressed a sigh. It was a failed attempt at shaking away the hesitance and fear of walking the palace alone. She would no doubt run into Caitlin de Méchant … The name sending shivers of dread and panic. She still had no idea why that girl was so set against her. She could understand Méchant's Parents, well-known Ministers of the Ducal court and her Father Victor being set against each other, but Caitlin and her? There was practically no reason at all.

However, she tried not to think about the noble girl with light tangerine hair and hazel eyes as she made her way to the preferred destination.

Travelling the passage to the west-wing, past many courtrooms under the light of crystal and candle, sun through tinted windows, and reflections from the polished marble flooring, she felt hope building, towering within … She might have missed Caitlin today, with a bit of luck that is. She used this luck to her interest, studying and admiring the murals and mosaic art upon the tall elven interior walls. Aen Seidhe, humans or should she say D'hoine, magic, wine, and gods. Her every breath correlated with the fastening pace of her heart, she was entranced ... Only to be pulled into reality, nearly colliding with a racing messenger.

Hands and arms growing tired, she pushed on. Boots echoing every step she took throughout the hall, directing her closer and closer to the large doors of the ducal library where Artorius Vigo would be reading, or perhaps practising magic, she exclaimed in her mind. Eagerness serving to her benefit. Brown eyes lighting up at the prospect of witnessing the mage casting spells and illusions he was so famous for.

She was so close …

'Savant!'

Her voice seemed so sweet and innocent, almost melodic and beautiful to the ears, but the voice belonged to a girl whose intentions were not so much like her exterior, at least to her that is.

She kept walking, hoping that a false action of not hearing the girl would prove enough to be left alone, but she knew she failed that attempt when her legs stammered at the next words…

'Savant … Aubrey! May we speak?'

Stopping in her tracks completely, the urge to face the noble overcome her. She felt guilt clutch at her heart … Forgiveness, forgive. Turning to the taller and older girl adorned in a blue ducal dress, hair flowing like Lantana petals and buds surrounding her round face, she allowed Caitlin to analyze her position and what she was holding.

Caitlin held an expression, a look of concern … but it did not last long. A small smile was chased in her rosy cheeks. Aubrey found herself bewildered as if someone had thrown a rock at her head intentionally with pleasure and then proceeded to apologize and nurse her, but she nevertheless returned a smile, ambling cautiously to Méchant's form.

'Good morning Caitlin, what did you wish to speak of?' Aubrey asked almost in a whisper, peering up at the girl who held an extraordinary smile, but it slightly wavered, shifting something in Aubrey. The atmosphere was strange. So many times, she had felt nothing but anger, hurt and sadness when speaking to this girl, or more so being spoke down to by her, Aubrey reasoned wistfully. Images of past memories and expereinces, being cornered where no one could step in, where the words were like daggers from Caitlin and her pack.

This girl and her group of close-knit friends. This girl and her group of friends that were nowhere to be seen … Aubrey recognized instantly the change in the demeanor of their meeting now that it was just the two of them.

'Something rather important … In fact, you might like to deliver the package before we speak, so we have time and privacy.' Caitlin suggested, eyes conveying unease, flickering around their surroundings.

'Of course, Caitlin. Just wait one moment … Or perhaps you'd like to come with me?' Aubrey asked kindly, readjusting the box in her arms, red marks and dents in her skin intensifying. Caitlin seemed to notice, going bright red, apologising profusely and unexpectedly taking the box from her arms carefully. This again took Aubrey by shock, she felt uncomfortable even. Eyes wide and hands fidgeting with her belt as Caitlin asked for directions. Aubrey, after a moment of contemplating Méchant, directed them both to the doors that were now open.

A black-haired woman appeared from the interior of the large library, adorning a royal dress of black and gold. The sorceress and niece of Artorius, Fringilla Vigo …

'Lady Fringilla!' Aubrey called out, heading to the short-haired sorceress with Caitlin following closely behind.

Vibrant green eyes focused on her incoming form, a small smile passing by the beauty's lips.

'Aubrey? You've grown a great deal. Long has it been since I last tutored you. I predict this parcel is for my Uncle.' She responded to their presence with her light Nilfgaardian accent, it was still very much clear in her dialect.

'Yes, though I do not know what it contains. We apologise for inter-'

'No need. I shall give him the package next I see him … Send my regards to your Father.' She spoke one last time, taking the parcel and speedily finding her way to where ever she was heading in the first place.

'Well then … That was interesting. Look, the library is empty. We can talk within the safety of the books.' Aubrey chuckled, beginning a stride.

The heat was the first thing she discovered. It was warm and cosy just like a library of knowledge and relaxation should be. The sun came through the tinted windows, rebounding through the maze of high up shelves. Aubrey found herself in awe every time she came to this area of the palace. The design, the scale, the artistry gone into creating such a haven was magnificent.

She was soon thrown off by the lock being used on the doors however. The click of the metal alarming her to the exit where Caitlin held her head down, hand sliding away from the frame.

'Aubrey … I would like to apologise for all the problems, all the grief I've caused you in the past. It wasn't - it was never the way I should have dealt with this.' She began, slowly turning away from the door and finding her way to a seat, although not sitting. Aubrey felt stuck in place … Not knowing what to do, or understanding where this was going. 'Come, sit. Please.' She murmured sadly, gesturing to the cushioned chair framed of wood.

Aubrey obliged hesitantly, perching herself awkwardly on the chair. She felt even smaller, staring up at Caitlin who seemed just as uncomfortable and frozen in place.

'I-I … Now that we are here, I don't know how to say this.' She muttered nervously, peering around anxiously. Aubrey felt, heard the dismay and fear in Caitlin's voice … Something happened?

'It's okay. Take your time, I will listen to whatever you have to say.' Aubrey couldn't help but reassure. Her nails digging into the soft material of the chair in uncertain anticipation. Hazel irises met her brown ones, and they shared a moment of silence.

'It is to do with Victor … Your Father I should say.'

The mention of him, her Pa, creating a spiral of madness and worry in her heart and mind. She hid it as best she could, nodding her head signalling Caitlin to continue. Every muscle in her body was stiff and tense.

'You may not believe me … And I understand, but please hear me out.'

The grip on the chair tightened, heart raced like a drum pounding.

'Your Father, your Father and I have been … having an affair.'

Silence … Denial … A sharp explosion … Tears. She hated that she couldn't speak, say something then and there. She wasn't brave enough to accuse this girl of her actions, that this was beyond name calling, taunts … That this was cruel and malicious.

'We've been uniting in such intimacy for some time now ... yet I am afraid that is not all.' She began, tears of her own forming.

Still she could not move, say anything, she wanted so badly to tell this girl that lying about such things was below her. That it was not funny, that this wasn't a joke anymore. But something fluttered beside her, told her to stay and listen. Even though the nerves that had been hit, shredded and mutilated along with her honor, she felt something whisper. Something told her to receive such words, such conviction.

'He was my tutor for many years as you know – I- I was infatuated with him. Victor de la Savant, the most sought-after man of the Ducal court. He knew of this and-and, he disclosed to me something I fear but must say …' She sobbed, pausing to catch her breath, reminding Aubrey that she had to breathe as well. And she did, loosely and uneven, the room was too hot, eating away her oxygen almost.

The many nights her Father exclaimed he was busy working on assignments and significant business for the court, hiding away somewhere... No, no, no.

'Aubrey … Victor, he is not human. I've no notion of what he is … But he offered to- to please me, to-to love me … Show me affection – I-If I let him feed from me-'

That was it … Aubrey could not hear of it any longer. Standing abruptly from the chair she evaded Caitlin, determined to reach the door.

However, she was stopped by a hand on her own …

'Listen to me Aubrey. He is not human. Look! He feeds on my blood, his teeth, they are sharp as a sword!' She clutched onto Aubrey desperately, hyperventilating almost. 'He was so fair and tender ... I could not resist! I hate myself for it!'

'No. Caitlin … Stop this nonsense. This is not funny and I don't know what made you think it would be.' She demanded through gritted teeth, gently pulling the pale hand from her own darker one. She ignored the cries of the noble girl, unlocking the door hastily, clumsily falling out the door.

'Aubrey! I'm not lying! Believe me!'

She did not stop, she just ran.

Tears flooding continuously, she was angry … Disappointed and confused. She couldn't believe that nonsense … Her Father was kind, polite and would never use someone like that … Let alone be a monster that fed on blood and virgins like those stupid stories of Upirs and Vampires.

She ran, escaped to the only place she could think of … The Palace gardens.

By the time she reached the seat that was faced with the stunning view of glistening water and fisherman boats floating peacefully above, she was sweating … Angry and horrified by the prank.

She would never have thought Caitlin could be that mean, cruel and harsh. What kind of prank, what kind of amusement could be found from such an act, such a lie.

She fell to the ground, exhausted and beyond furious. Her blood felt as if it was boiling, never before had she felt so outraged. The only thing that took her from her clouded fury was a black-haired girl, watching her from another seat close by. Grey eyes reached her wet face, and Aubrey found herself ashamed and further angered. The princess of Toussaint would no doubt be curious … Desiring freedom and an adventure, a mystery perhaps. Nevertheless, Sylvia Anna, eldest of the two princesses, was the most curious one.

And Aubrey did not hesitate to hold the lingering stare…

8***8

'Regis, the Duchess wants his head, not an apology and bouquet of roses from him. Besides, we have no idea of his whereabouts. Might not even be in the Duchy anymore.' Geralt explained gruffly, leaning on the railing of the outer lanai.

His voice liberating her from the painful yet strangely freeing memory. As she considered all that happened, the things Caitlin said, her actions, her face, the tears. The Palace gardens where she met Syanna …

All was revealing itself … Orianna, her Father's secrets. Her father … Her Pa. All that he said before leaving made so much more sense, it had nothing to do with the Imperial Academy or research … It was to do with him and his nature. He wanted to protect her from himself - and the letter, that was his way of saying so … He always wanted her to know, that he was not who she thought he was. But he loved her, she knew he loved her … He loved her, she repeated over and over in her mind. Yet, something fluttered close by to her, a feeling or thought, something that didn't sit right with her. Something unpleasant … why did he love her? Why would he choose to love her? The orphanage … Her. And what made him leave, what was his motivation? Where did he go? There was so many unanswered questions, and she had ample opportunities to find those very answers, yet never sought them out. Caitlin ... That poor girl ... If she had listened to her, fought past her own selfish feelings, she might have learned the truth then and there.

Everyone made mistakes … Everyone made mistakes.

She stood frigid and tense, throat contracting painfully. Eyes feeling as if the sun or an immense bright light shone directly into them, burning. Don't let it, don't do it. Breathe … Breathe… Imagine you are floating atop glass, atop clean and cool ocean. Allow the water to swallow you, mend your skin. Sense the tickle of every ripple and motion as a hand, comforts you …the princess spoke in her ear, the vibrations of her soft voice as real as they were those many years ago.

'You witnessed his reaction at Dun Tynne, did you not? Dettlaff, he does not give empty threats, if he says he will bring Beauclair to the ground, he plausibly will. He does not deal well with deceit and betrayal, he is not like you, nor me for that matter.' Regis debated, leaving Geralt to ponder over his words.

'Aubrey… Anarietta, there a way we could persuade her to allow a meeting between Dettlaff and Syanna?' Geralt asked, as Regis looked out to the Vineyard.

She lost track of any and all thoughts of her Father, traversing straight back to Dettlaff and the state of Beauclair's safety. After all, he had threatened to destroy the peaceful city filled with unknowing inhabitants, days ago. Something they could not and would not let happen. She wouldn't let it happen. She wouldn't let him do such a thing.

'I am not sure … Anna is headstrong Geralt, and we know her opinion. She loves her sister dearly, she will not accept the consequences of Syanna's actions, and no doubt, will not risk Syanna's life for such a meeting. What if we attempt to find his location instead?' She answered, eyes finding amity. The cool waters disappearing yet the comforting hand stayed.

Think of the good, think of what empowers you.

She felt much livelier after arriving to the vineyard a few days prior, safely into the welcoming arms of Geralt and his new real estate. The three of them used yesterday as a time to think over everything that transpired at Dun Tynne, figuring out things for themselves and each other.

She had woken up in the guest room earlier this morning filled with new eagerness and determination. She was not going to give up, she couldn't after all that had happened. This time … she wouldn't let herself give up so suddenly.

'That is precisely why I believe we should first convince the Duchess of the truth, explain to her Syanna's betrayal, the relationship she and Dettlaff shared. We need not even mention the meeting initially.' Regis agreed partially, however not acknowledging the idea of finding him, enticing Aubrey to speak up.

'Why not find him? Is there not a way we could reach out to him?'

'There is a way, an incredibly dangerous- no, a treacherous and formidable way, a way that would most likely kill us instead. Thus, I affirm in discussing matters with the Duchess.' He resolved in final tone, gesturing to the Palace South-West of them. It's structure bone like, almost hollow to Aubrey's eyes. She perceived her home differently, and it felt natural, disturbingly normal to her now. Another way? She'd keep it in mind, no matter the risks.

'Let us journey to the Palace and explain to her the truth she deserves. Then we can progress further in ending this once and for all.' He continued, as both her and Geralt observed the setting sun, illuminating the sharp towers and colours of the Ducal palace.

'You make a good point Regis. Aubrey? You going to accompany us, the Duchess could be bitter with you … You've a choice, always. What do you want to do?' Geralt inquired gently, going to her side with worried eyes.

She always had a choice. The choice of who she befriended, the choice of who she gave her affections and love to, the choice of her actions and words and the choice of her perspective. Grasping the Witcher medallion, studying the silver of a wolf, with growl fierce and brave, she let her mind speak for itself.

'Of course, Geralt. I promised Her Grace I would aid you. I promised myself.'


	10. Chapter 10

**Here is the next chapter! Another short one, but we are so close to the finale!**

 **Thank you so much, and please leave your thoughts and feedback in a review or PM! I would truly appreciate it, hope everyone is doing well and please enjoy Chapter 10**

"It's better to die than to live in the knowledge that you've done something that needs forgiveness."

― **Andrzej Sapkowski** , **Blood of Elves**

 **SECRETS UNSEEN**

Aubrey felt distinctive recall, both fondly and diabolical as she and her two companions walked the steps following the spiral of paths towards the upper levels of the Palace which captured a vast overlook of the Duchy. The pastiche of the exedras, wide-open terraces, tracery and floral engravements and murals of Aen Seidhe architecture were as close as they could be to the genuine work of elves, however she wouldn't know for certain, as she was never alive to see the ruling of the slowly fading species.

Clearing her throat rather loudly, she stumbled nervously at the thought of divided races and peoples, now being sure that her Father was not of her division. It kept casting shadows on past memories over and over, like a sundial.

She took to glancing back and forth between Geralt and Regis whom quietly communicated under low breaths, eventually finding her focus on the stars that glared in an appearance of diamonds up above in the evening sky. Knights and guards sometimes stole her attention, but she reclaimed it just as swiftly. As time continued to pass by, she struggled to keep her mind on what was transpiring in front of her. Albeit, nothing much was; however, a war was proceeding in her silent mind.

She couldn't say she was cursed or given a destiny and life of pure lies and sadness, she couldn't say that at all. However, at times it felt as if that was exactly what she was given, although served on a silver platter and fed with a silver spoon. Still did taste bitter and sour on her tongue, or perhaps bitter-sweet?

Victor de la Savant, a ducal architect, scholar and incredibly sought-after man of the court with dark and bloody secrets. Herself, not that she remembers anything, a young abandoned girl with no given name, parentage or history. He found her, and for some reason secured her with a false story, yet a truthful love. Gods she loved him …

Gloomy brown eyes gazed over a particular spot under a stone hut, looking out to Hauteville and Gran'place. She conjured an image of a young blonde-haired girl and a young dark-haired man, leaning over the railing, disclosing dreams and hopes, jests and banter, truth and lies.

She smiled a smile that could tell a story with no speech… As the distance between her much older form and the space of fond memories increased, hindering her vision, hindering the scene of Father and Daughter laughing.

Then there was the door, the door that led to another place of fond yet sullen memories. Fragments of helping him examine different building materials and their properties, diagrams and sketches of future and historic projects, flowers, and herbs and the chemicals he kept secret between them both. A lone hand found a piece of the parchment rolled in a scroll, sitting guardedly in a satchel from her belt… The last thing she had received from him, the final piece of his legacy.

There were times all she wanted to do was run into his arms, breathe in his scent, play with his brown curls that felt like silk to touch, stare into his green eyes that sometimes could change tone, could be visually deceiving at times, she wanted him to tell her everything would be alright as long as he was by her side. They were a team… Yet there were times she wished to scream at him, cry and accuse him of drifting away, of losing touch, of not staying. He left the year of 1266 … never to come back. His destination unknown to her. Maybe their destiny not meant to be together, maybe they were never meant to follow the same path.

The trio were soon gaining on their own desired destination. They were getting closer by the minute. And at times, gossip and whispers peaked in the background. The turbulent commotion of Knights, guards and nobles "quietly" arguing amongst themselves heightened in noise. Discussing what would possibly and should be done with Syanna. Biting her bottom lip, Aubrey ignored the words that threatened to leave her mouth. There was no need to chime in, it would only delay their travels.

'Do you think Her Grace's nerves have been calmed?' Regis discontinued her inner thoughts, speaking out to either one of them.

'Doubt it. Rarely forgets, rarely retracts what she says…especially not threats.' Geralt responded quickly, irritated and restless with their current situation, understandable too. And of course, he was right, Anna rarely ever gave out hollow threats, besides a few individual circumstances, including one with a certain bard and poet-friend of theirs who was immensely close to being hanged. The memory although alarming, was somewhat amusing and it was the first time she met the Lion cub of Cintra and Sorceress of Vengerberg. It was after Vilgefortz, after Geralt was the only one to come back with them …

But she had to abandon those painful memories This was beginning to get out of hand, for everyone. Dettlaff and Anna especially. Regis seemed to swallow the words, and she did her best to do so as well, while they continued to the stairs that would soon unveil their presence to the court and the Duchess herself.

'Yes … Well even I must admit Dettlaff's actions were highly inappropriate, reprehensible even.' Regis described truthfully, as they began to climb the first set of steps. She didn't respond, didn't truly know what to say or how she would say what she felt.

'Are you upset?' Regis suddenly asked, causing Aubrey's head to rise in confusion, he was speaking to Geralt. The three halted in their journey, stopping to further discuss the odd question, the odd question that Aubrey was also curious and worried to hear the answer to. How did the Witcher feel about all this? She felt selfish and ashamed that she never asked either of them how they felt.

'What do you mean?' Was his counteracting response, he certainly was good at feigning indifference, sometimes too much so, sometimes she wondered if he was at times, indeed a little unaware, and she found it strangely endearing.

'Hmm, let's see … You're returning empty-handed. No trophy. No new lead to boast of, then pursue.' Regis explained deep in thought. Aubrey couldn't help but smile bemused at Geralt's reaction, a couple of raised eyebrows and just as addled eyes.

'What can I say … It happens at times. Especially likely to when the monster I'm chasing can turn into fog.' Was his feedback, as he turned from them both to travel the upcoming steps. But of course, Regis was not done questioning, she thought amused once more, yet delighted all the same.

'Hm. How … How do your employers customarily react when you fail to meet their expectations?' The vampire appeared and sounded as an overly adventurous and curious child, practically drooling to hear the answer of his own question, perhaps a little more subtle albeit, but she found herself shaking her head, struggling to keep a laugh from sneaking out into the elsewise, quiet night. The calm before a storm almost …

'Depends. Peasants cuss me out. Merchants demand I refund their deposit. Whereas nobles mostly just release their hounds.' The Witcher posited briefly. Aubrey with a stumble and lack of control, released an unexpected laugh, covering up with a poor clearing of the throat as the Golden-eyed wolf took to glaring at her. Close … Too close, she jested in the safety of her mind this time, catching a quick smile from him and Regis.

'And rulers?'

'Usually threaten me with the gallows.' He answered with a side glance to Regis, as the three of them stood at the bottom of the last and final steps. A guard descended slowly, observing them from a distance.

'Her most Illustrious Grace awaits the Lady and Gentlemen.'

The voice of a ruler soon peaked in height, her tone furious and hiding bloodshed almost. Her words sharp and bitter as she defended her sister, Anna would no doubt defend her sister to the death if she had to … Something she could familiarise herself with.

'Let them storm. They will not find her there. Syanna is hidden away, in a safe place… She shall await trial there until we have rid ourselves of this accursed vampire.' The Duchess explained vividly, hands gesturing in approval of her own words, standing tall with pride and fiery passion, although, Aubrey felt a sting at the way she referenced Dettlaff, as if he were a mere monster … Completely ignoring all that had happened as if it was a lie.

'Which, to judge by your miens, has not yet come to pass.' She continued with a rise in voice, projecting a rather disappointed and angered expression on her otherwise soft and feminie features towards Geralt and Regis. Of course, she would jump head first and start pointing fingers and calling names, something Aubrey was never and never would be fond of about Her grace.

'Did what we could, but—'

'My patience is at an end, Geralt. Where is he? Where is Dettlaff?'

'Your Grace, Geralt and Regis have been working and investigating for the past few days with focus and determination. I apologise for my bluntness, but I believe they deserve a little more respect.' Aubrey cut in, keeping a light and polite tone, but stood her ground even when Anna conveyed shock and enmity towards her, piercing her with acute grey eyes.

She felt the stares from all around, Palmerin, nobles and ducal minsters, they all were shocked and disgraced by her words.

'Aubrey … Do not begin one of your vigilant and greatly banal tangents, I beg of you. It will only serve to drag you deeper into trouble, grave trouble you have already found yourself in.' Anna challenged, breaking all distance and area between them. Grey eyes tested the waters, before reaching Geralt once again. Aubrey should have taken it to heart, and she did with great pain, but she knew somewhere, that Anna felt regret saying such things. Aubrey had grown accustomed to the behaviours and ticks of the Duchess over the years. Those grey eyes broke for a moment, showing remorse.

'Dettlaff's head is nowhere to be seen, you've come with not even a clue, and then attempt at excusing your slack efforts. Do not take me for a fool.'

'I-I wouldn't dare—' Geralt begun, head bowing in defence only to be interrupted, igniting a fire in Aubrey, or some form of flammable material that was indeed dangerously close to an explosive inside her.

'I care not one bit what you have worked on, are working on or shall work on. I'm interested in results. Which, thus far, have been nil…

'Ahh. At times I hunt foxes. Do you know how it works? The Ducal huntsman releases the hounds. They catch the fox's scent, chase the animal down, and lead the battue to it – All within an hour.'

'Dettlaff is not a wild animal your Grace. He is-' Aubrey could not control herself, letting out the words that sat on her tongue only to be stopped in her tracks. The chestnut-haired woman sharply turned to her, glaring, giving a stare that could have killed her … A stare that demanded if another word came from her mouth, she would not have a tongue. But … like always, Anna let it go, for some strange reason holding a forgiveness for Aubrey, ignoring the comment and charging back at Geralt who eyed Aubrey hesitantly.

'… You, Witcher, have had a week. The aid of my most excellent knights. Yet you have tracked absolutely nothing down… I've begun to suspect my beagles might have done a better job!'

Silence … An awkward and offensive silence … Geralt surely had a comeback, no matter if the gallows were shadowy with death and close by, no matter she was the Duchess of this rich land, Geralt would have something up his sleeve.

'Then perhaps Your Grace should've sent a beagle instead of a Witcher after the vampire.'

Victory … A small and quiet simper sat on Aubrey's lips, at the reaction of the Duchess. The truth … small or big, hurts, oh it hurts.

'You tread on thin ice, Witcher. Very thin. Wisdom demands you choose your words more cautiously … But to the matter at hand. Have you managed to establish anything?'

'Your Grace, it seems Syanna tricked Dettlaff, used him to murder the knights who escorted her into exile. We have reason to believe that –'

Regis could not finish … The grunts and moans of agony and torment crawling up the steps, the scent of blood and danger high in the air.

'Your Grace … Vampires!'

Vampires … Calm before the storm … Dettlaff, he did it … how could he? She screeched in her mind, screamed in sadness, leaving the sight of the guard barely making his way to the crowd. Sprinting to the railings that prevented her from falling over to her death, yet allowing her to see out to the city, her home … She wailed silently. So many lives lost …

She could almost hear the cries of terror, the screams of death … The smell of blood and gore, hunger and hunt …

'Dettlaff … why?' She whispered, hoping he would hear her, 'Stop…' She begged, witnessing an attack of immortal and bloodthirsty creatures on the city.

Briskly spinning on agile legs, she left the side of Anna who stood beside her at the railing, running as fast she could, melting the tension in her leg muscles. She made it up the stairs only to stumble …

She was face to face with a woman … No, a wraith. Skeletal and skin tightened around bones, eyes dark and fuming with lust for blood, a red substance dribbling from the wet and drooling mouth, nails at least as long as a dagger on each finger. A bruxa …

'Get out of my way …' The voice shivered, pounded, echoed in her mind as their eyes stared into each other, although the vampire's lips did not move once. But she could not move, seeing the man's lifeless body on the marble ground … 'I can't move…'

'Then I shall help you.' It cackled to her personally, inducing a horrid cry of pain and terror … The liquid trickled like rain and tears down her face, the aching pulses of her skin increased as she was thrown down the stairs. Bones and limbs hitting each level of stone with a crack and clatter, colliding with her shoulder and elbow, knee and wrist.

She gasped, failing at catching a breath … Heart pumping and hitting her ribs, eyes wide and tears pooling. As there was no ground, no protection. The air sung, glided fiercely against the edge of her body, flickering through the thin material of her clothing. She was falling … The shout of a man faded as she fell through the trees, muddling her sight with flashes of green and brown, blue and silver, stone, and sky.

The breaking and crackling of tree branches colliding with every inch of her, congested in her ear drums … Sometimes a moan or cry would disrupt, being forced from the depths of her throat.

Then … She finally met the ground. The clap of her side against the earth floor of dirt and flowers … She lost her vision entirely for a few moments, forced to be defenceless and vulnerable to where ever she was now, and whoever might find her.

The echoing of pain burrowed deep in her head, throbbing and slithering down to her neck and chest, back and feet, stomach churning and twisting. _Aubrey … Aubrey … Get up._

'What? Regis … Geralt?' She croaked, rolling over so that she could see the sky. It was there, barely … The trees that sheltered her from the screams and shouts of fear, the trees that hindered her view. Every limb was shaking … Fingers stiff and stubborn, not a limb would move … She had no control over anything … No, no, no!

'Ahhh! Help!' She wailed … dread like the blood permeate and oozing down her numb skin. Hell! Please don't do this … She frigidly lifted a finger … but nothing else would move.

She couldn't feel anything …

 _Aubrey, you are not paralysed, merely in shock. Close your eyes … Breathe carefully, breathe with your lungs damn you! Yes, breathe deeply and calmly._

'What If it's hypovolemic shock? I'm – I'm losing blood… I can't feel m—'

 _No, you're just in shock, move your toes, fingers … Good, now move your joints._

Aubrey begun to grow sensations in the joints, muscles and skin. A cool air pierced her first, and she shivered, resonating with the shaking breaths she inhaled and exhaled … Rotating her neck, it felt as if the bones were crushing themselves as she peered up. How was she still alive? The balcony she slid through and fell from was at least twenty metres tall from where she lay …

She landed on her left side … Hesitantly, fearfully, she glanced at her arm only to gasp and close her eyelids tightly.

'No … I- It's dislocated god damn it!' She yelled in fury, struggling to keep her eyes off the swollen and disturbingly disunited joint between the upper and lower arm. The fall dislocated her elbow …

 _And you've also an open wound on your head, a fracture in your left hip and hand and multiple scrapes and bruises._

The strange man's voice that echoed inside her head continued apathetically, expressing no emotion or pity …

'Who are you?' She moaned through gritted teeth and wet eyes, analysing the injuries he explained to her … He was no figment of her imagination; couldn't be for he was right. He was correct to the T, every time she twitched a finger, a muscle in her left hand, it throbbed violently, causing her to leave it to be motionless.

As she peeled away her trousers at the hips with her uninjured hand, her eyes in immense shock and nausea noticed the severe bruising, finding their way down to her feet where just as noticeable was the difference in leg length. Her right leg was now shorter …

She fell back once more, attempting to ignore and forget the extreme explosions of pain that subdued her whole body … She would die, a vampire would find her and drain whatever life she had left from the veins … That's if she would even have any blood left with the gaping wound atop her head.

 _You will not die … I'll make sure of that, but you must stand. Quickly, if you wish to save your home, find the Red-haired woman- The one who knew your Father—_

'Orianna! How will she help? She would more likely be a part of the invasion, sinking her teeth into innocent people no doubt! How could Dettlaff do such a thing … After all that we—'

 _After all that you shared with him … Pathetic, do you truly believe a creature such as him would be above revenge, humans aren't even above that, and from personal experience, revenge is blind of love and remorse._

Not only did she carry a heavy physical pain, but an emotional weight as she limped away from the solemn and lone gardens she fell into. Whoever this being was, he was right … so horribly right. She found her way down steps, at times losing balance and falling on her left side sending an agonising tremor of inferno throughout her bloody and wounded body. She was alone, traversing the empty streets and pathways leading to the main section of the Palace, where she fell from. Instead, she was trembling, practically staggering away from the safety of the palace, away from Geralt and Regis…

'You are a vampire are you not? I judge you will not give me your name; yet why do you help me?' She whispered to nothing, somehow knowing he was still with her, feeling his presence in her mind. It was like a mutual symbiotic relationship. She a worn down and close to shattered tankard, he a cool, clean and refreshing liquid indulging within her, keeping her useful, keeping her alive.

 _Who said I would not give you my name? I am someone of utmost importance to you—_

'If that is so, why do I not recognise your voice?'

 _You do not know me, yet we have met before … And we are connected, you are my family after all._

She took her time to relate and correlate his words, she knew quite quickly, too quickly that it frightened her. This man or being, whatever he was, was related to her Father. He felt familiar, like a wine on a hot summer day. A wine that had not been drunken or enjoyed for many years, and then with thirst, sipped thoroughly was the cool and sweet wine, the fond memories coming back, yet bitter was the after-taste, and straight to her head it went … Dizziness clouding her otherwise attentive sight.

 _I can see now why he chose you … Funny, he is so much like me, finding affection for a human, a woman who was not as furiously wide-eyed and callow as most of them are._

'He was my Father … Not my romantic partner!'

 _Hmm, maybe, yet he definitely did not plan it out that way._

The voice chuckled darkly, sending shivers of dread and discomfort, yet she continued to limp her way to the Gran'place square, where ashes and smoke kindled above flames of burning orange and red, blood and hunger.

'Are you his Father?' She asked in a wistful whisper, attempting to ignore the cries and wails of pain and mourning from escaping inhabitants … It was too much to bare and hear, tears trickled along with blood, reaching her lips, occasionally catching the substance on her tongue. She was yet to confront any vampires, so perhaps this man had something to do with her mere luck, however there were those who were not as lucky, and she focused on anything but the bodies adorning the bloodied soil and stone of their home …

 _Maybe, maybe not. I did know his mother very intimately however, I knew her every liking to my every touch, her appreciation of my sweet words-_

'Stop with the jests and one-sided amusement, please! Can you not see what has been done! Now tell me why I must seek out Orianna!' She shouted with the leftover energy she carried with her, heaving sharp and shallow breaths. She felt him withdraw from her for a moment, only to return more erratically. She screeched in surprise and unexpected pain and relief, her elbow once more held normally and connected with an ear-piercing crack, then the hips, then the twitching of her skin and scalp, itching and burning cruelly, attaching the broken skin and increasing the red blood cells.

 _She conserves a key … A key that you will use to stop this lunacy of a night, a key that will allow you entrance into the hideout of a very, extremely old vampire. Oh, and before I forget, I am Christopher Lugosi, your extrinsic Grandfather._


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello! It's been a bit since I last updated, so I'd like to apologize, I've been a bit busy with school and other things but we're getting there :)**

 **This is the next chapter of course, and we're getting closer and closer to the finale! I'm very excited about that, and I truly hope you are too!**

 **I would like to thank all the readers who have been following along, all the people who have been kind enough or impressed (XD) enough to follow/favourite and I would like to thank those who have left a review! I really appreciate that!**

 **I really want to read what you all think and perceive from the story, the characters and where it's all going, I think it'd be awesome to have discussions about characters, story and plot paths and everything about my take on the Witcher and my fanfiction so far! Or even discussions about The Witcher itself! It's a great universe, with very interesting topics to dive into!**

 **I'd love to read what you all think, what I could improve on or what I'm doing good! Please don't be scared to leave a review with questions or feedback on the narrative and characters! I just hope I'm not overwhelming and scaring people from doing that XD Also I understand there aren't many, which I'm happy with as long as you are happy! I just want this to be thought-provoking, entertaining and interesting to read!**

 **Sorry about that haha Please enjoy Chapter 11! :)**

* * *

 **Hen Ichaer, Dreams and the Night of Long Fangs**

"Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit to them." – Bruce Lee

* * *

It was so deathly still… The only source of sound that she could recognise was of the alarm bell ringing continuously like rain on a calm night, warning the people of Beauclair as if the noise of beasts hunting and destroying weren't enough.

The wind seemed to have disappeared entirely too, no touch of a cool night breeze, not a scramble of flowers or trees … It was a dead city, she mentioned solemnly but briefly in her mind while staggering the just as dead streets, attempting to navigate her way to Orianna's estate with little hope of what she was to find … So much death, slaughter, guilt written on stone with the blood and tears of innocents.

She was not innocent and never was, she realised, suffering from a sudden puncture in her chest vibrating along with the rattling of her medallion.

Lesser Vampires …

 _Why do you feel guilt? You did not kill them, did not order them to be massacred._

'No, but I left him … I didn't give Dettlaff the truth he deserved.' She whispered, crouching down to a young man, perhaps in his early twenties laid out unnaturally in a pool of his own blood. The scent of such red, sometimes black fluid lost its intensity as she travelled the streets, and it seemed to disappear entirely as she knelt down to the boy with no life left, she had somehow become attuned to the smell, the taste on her tongue, no longer bothered by the sickening redolence. White eyes stared up at the distant sky, expressing no fear, pain or distress, skin pale and like-frosted glass, there was nothing. A stiff hand reached out to his cheekbone, a gentle and cold thumb soothed the frozen skin, then gradually closed his eyelids forever. She relieved a shaky breath, peering back at the path she just passed through, to see all the bodies she had properly let sleep in peace, their eyes no longer facing the cruel environment, appearing as if slumber had enraptured them, gifting dreams of union, but in truth, they were the ones who did not evacuate in time.

 _Even if you had told the truth, stayed with him, do you truly believe it would have prevented this?_

'I don't know – But I could have tried, I should have been there with him …' She said almost breaking, almost allowing herself to crack, to confess the truth of what she felt, to allow it to seep through. She **did** fail him, she let him down. She betrayed him …

 _Like Father, like Daughter … Although blood does not connect you both, does not strengthen your bond and relations, you are so much like him. You are his child …_

She sensed, felt the ferocity of his words in her very veins. Blood boiled, rising and rising in temperature, resonating with the flames swallowing many of the buildings surrounding her lone form. And it only brought her down, brought the spirit within her down to a coldness she had never perceived. Was she just like him? Did she betray the people whom she loved and cared for? No … no. And, neither did he. He was a good man, she knew, good people can do terrible things … She knew this, he was good, he loved her; she persuaded, ignoring the change in atmosphere and denial, wandering further and further, nearing the estate, nearing the answer, the end.

 _Oh, your kind never fails to frustrate me. I must say there is not much to be desired, however one small detail, something extremely common of your species._

She did not respond, instead focusing on her feet which continuously stumbled, tripped and rushed to stability over and over again. She still felt the pain of the fall, still pondering over how she was alive and walking, managing to steer clear of other vampires.

 _I am envious Aubrey, envious of your capacity to forgive, rationalise the behaviour of others and your ability to … forget. Something we vampires will never acquire or learn, something the elder folk will never learn. It is both your strength and your weakness. After so much experience, so many years of trying to understand you humans, it has unveiled itself to me, it was so clear all along._

 _There is not enough time, you humans wither and age quickly, becoming only a speckle of time in our eyes, so why waste it on regret, anger, and accusation._

'I don't think you've met with many then, I'm afraid us humans could learn much more involving forgiveness.' She responded truthfully, pausing to gaze at the burning city, the crackling and echoes of flames and smoke devouring anything of tree as it corrupted the once fair city.

 _Perhaps, perhaps not, however you cannot deny the fact that you will so willingly forgive Dettlaff, you forgive far too easily. Just like how you try and justify your Father and his actions._

Quietness.

'Did you know him well? Do you know why he left? What he left for?' She asked, avoiding his previous statement after a short interval of silence, leaning against a plastered wall indented with claw marks and scars of the night of long fangs, catching many vital breaths she had forgotten to inhale and exhale.

She sensed him shift, motion somewhere, she felt him in her muscles, bones and blood. A being connected within, a symbiosis connection of some kind, he was healing her, keeping her alive she believed thankfully.

 _…_ _No, I did not and his whereabouts I have no notion of. I only knew his Mother, Lara… A Savant like Victor - she was the daughter of a well-renowned Historian and Minister of the Ducal court._

Aubrey discerned hidden implications to his words, they came across untroubled on the surface, indifferent almost, but she knew better. There was something there, the way he hesitated.

'Lara, he never spoke much of her, not many do. I've a few rarities and gifts, heirlooms Fath-Victor passed down to me, letters most prominently but I couldn't ever grasp what kind of person she was, only that she was an Aen Seidhe historian.' She appealed quietly, enduring and applying her fading energy into the now reduced distance between her and the Estate. She felt him hesitate again, she knew that response too well, the turmoil of denying the truth.

Father never did speak of her abundantly, no one did, a sore, sensitive topic maybe. She was not alive, Aubrey knew that much, but she never witnessed a grave or burial for her. There was nothing, only scraps and pieces of Lara de la Savant, she was at heart … only a myth, with shards of truth to her life and existence. What hurt most was Aubrey didn't even know if she was real at times. There was a portrait however, an oil painting of her, well at least who Aubrey believed to be her in Victor's suite. She remembered questioning the painting every night she snuck into his room, scared of the dark and desiring protection from her Pa and the candles surrounding his room like stars.

They would lay there on the mattress and talk about the dark, what could hide in the dull and gloomy shadows, and before he put out the candlelight, she saw the face of the most puzzling woman she'd ever seen. She was fascinating to view even on canvas …

Her hair a ghastly and pale brown, like waves of ash and dust adorning her head, eyes a green just like the pine trees she'd glimpsed in other paintings gracing the walls of his room, just like his eyes … A rose in her graceful hand, a hybrid flower, unnatural and blue unlike even those of Nazair with the faint purple tips, most likely genetically modified. A sweet smile could be seen plastered on her thin lips. She was beautiful because of her bizarreness, a crooked smile and nose, dark circles and a sadness behind those green eyes. She seemed so human… And Christopher was not, but he loved her, you-

'-loved her, didn't you?'

A sensation, an emotion that was not hers devastating her to tremble and hunch over abruptly. The fire erupted in her head, slithering down her neck, melting her flesh.

A grunt of pure agony discharged from her, scratching and burning her throat as she fell to the ground, the impact sending waves of spikes through every part of her body. Eyelids tightly clasped shut, teeth grinding painfully she clawed at the cobblestone … Please, stop it, stop it!

She froze in place, the pain leaving as fast and noticeable as the moon at dawn, the silver chalice was empty, no longer was there the presence of a being. He was gone …

'Lugosi!' Aubrey shouted, barely making her way off the ground … How could he leave?

'Please! You can help! Help Beauclair! Help Dettlaff!'

8***8

The repetition of feet hitting and leaving the marble floor echoed in her ears, ringing from the left to the right of her. Vibrations of every slow step forward lurked up and up. She was nervous and so every noise made, every movement of shadows and breeze, every motion in the dark corners of the corridor she snuck through, sent a shiver of dread down her spine.

She hoped he would be there, in his suite sitting at his davenport nose deep in scrolls and scaffolding, green eyes leaving not one word or diagram unnoticed. It had been so long since she'd last done this, leaving her room for the safety of her Father late at night, afraid of the dark … This time it wasn't the dark, night or shadows, but herself and what she was thinking, believing, what she witnessed over the past couple of days. So much misery and pain occurred before the city of Beauclair, the Ducal family.

The death of a princess … Sylvia Anna …

It seemed like only yesterday she had seen the girl nearest in age to her, the girl who was known for her mischievous behaviour, pranks and actions not befitting of an heiress to the ruling of Toussaint. Syanna ... The girl she had met at the Palace gardens those years ago.

She was dead ... The tragedy of her doom announced a few nights prior, but Aubrey could not believe it, it was a lie, it must have been. She wasn't ill, in poor health or in proximity of violence or militaristic operations. Countess Notturna was the one to announce the tragedy to the Ducal court, and of course, it did spread further, yet she could not believe it with all her heart. It couldn't be true, the idea of her dying in her sleep was incomprehensible. There was more to it, she knew that much, there was something darker consuming the Ducal house of Toussaint. Even the family … Anna Henrietta, Sylvia's sister did not respond like someone who had lost a sibling, a family member, a best friend, disregarding Anna's age completely, no one would get over a death so quickly. There was not even a burial, a funeral. A group of significant knights had disappeared as well, it was all so suspicious, but most of all, disturbing.

And it seemed she was not the only one to think so. Rumours, gossip spread through the city, through the court, that she was assassinated, her death ordered by the Northern Kingdoms collectively to send a message to Nilfgaard, or worst of all, her own family. It was known that Sylvia suffered from problematic behaviour but surely that wouldn't be enough to execute your own family? A child, a young girl? How could something so cruel happen to someone so innocent?

Gritting her teeth, Aubrey fidgeted with the knotted and messy strands of her hair, eyes making contact with the floor and the sleeping gown that lithely touched the surface of the marble flooring, only to be halted in her steps at the sound of a voice, a whisper or whispers … She spun erratically only to be faced with the darkness of a hallway lacking in light.

She couldn't stare, afraid that if she did stare too long she would see something she would fare better not to see, something hidden and meant to stay hidden. She persuaded it was just her mind playing tricks on her, but she couldn't help but ponder on the dream that had woken her in the first place, the dream that caused her to shoot up from her bed covered with sweat. There was so much to understand, so much occurring just in front of her eyes, and sometimes behind them. Sylvi- Syanna's supposed death, the nightmare, Caitlin … And that man, the man in her dreams. She'd never seen him before, never dreamt of him before either.

'What the hell.' She whispered shakily, standing just before the door to her Father's room. It was silent from within, but with dread and childish fear, it wasn't as silent where she was. She swore she heard, felt an unnatural sweep of air by her neck.

Back unintentionally leaning deeper into the door, she slumped back, peering frozen into the darkness that glowered behind a single ray of moonlight shining through the mosaic window. Fragments of light hindered her vision, but as she faced the dark … nothing. There was nothing, and that is when the sight of a lone fluttering creature, hovered by the window, attempting to escape. A moth she laughed gently, moving closer to the insect.

'You're trying to get to the moon? I'm afraid this window does not open.' She said quietly, standing near the sill of the glass. She watched it struggle, fall and float back up again, and found herself understanding, feeling its pain and desire to reach its dream, the moon.

'Aubrey?' A familiar voice broke her trance.

'I-I couldn't sleep, I had a nightmare.' She said quickly, turning to face her Father who stood at the door, still dressed in his daily clothing, candlelight surrounding his tall form. His expression was of worry and concern, and his hand reached out for her. She took it, grasping onto him as his arms enveloped her. She stood, face nuzzled in his chest, cherishing his warmth and scent.

There were no words spoken as she slipped under the blankets, embracing the soft and cozy sheets, however they spoke through the silence. They communicated without speaking aloud as he lay next to her, allowing her head to rest on his chest as he ran gentle fingers through her hair.

She nearly forgot all that had come to pass, nearly.

The painting … Past memories befell her calm thoughts, urging her to recreate those memories, to ask the questions she never thought to ask him about the woman with ashen brown hair and green eyes, the woman with the blue rose and crooked smile. But he stopped her.

'What happened in your nightmare?' He asked faintly, circling the surface of her wrist with kind fingers. Aubrey didn't know how to answer … the dream made no sense to her, she couldn't understand what transpired during her sleep, what her subconscious was attempting to unveil. It was scattered and with no focus on one thing, well, besides him, the man. He was the only thing she saw relatively clearly.

'I was in some sort of cave system, overwhelmed with bats and devastated like ruins. There was some sort of structure to it, like a hidden cavern, stonework and wall paintings. I was alone at first but then a moth appeared from nowhere, acting as if I was supposed to follow it … so I did.

It lead me to what looked like your room, but you weren't there. But there was something else … a book wide open on your desk, distraught with scribbles and violent handwriting, all I could read was Hen Ichaer, but soon even that disappeared. The moth was gone and a darkness followed me, I had nowhere to run, I screamed your name, pleaded for you to conjure out of nothing … but you didn't, you were gone.' She paused, clearing her throat that had grown rigid only to continue anyway.

'And then a wolf … a white wolf appeared. He came to me and sat beside me like he was comforting me, I pet him but he left my side, again asking me to follow, so I did. We made our way to the Palace gardens, where an owl hooted quietly, the wolf stood by his side and they both just watched me as if I was meant to do something.

Then … the darkness returned, surrounding me, consuming me. It burned at my skin, hindered my sight … I couldn't see. I thought I died but a voice … a voice called for me, a woman's voice. She was singing a lullaby, her voice felt as if it were there with me, like I could touch it if only I reached out. The darkness left once more, and it was daylight, still the Palace gardens. A swallow and a fox both stood before me, watching me carefully, they observed me carefully then faded right before me!

I felt so alone … I was alone in the gardens, somewhere I usually feel so comfortable around, but this time was different. I knew I had to do something but I didn't know what … or didn't want to do it. I felt ill, terrible, guilt-ridden as if I had committed a horrible crime.

Then the man … He knelt before me and offered his hand to me, he was beautiful... Sickly pale, just as pale eyes, hair and attire black as night, grim almost, but beautiful. He seemed so innocent, naïve yet wise and old. I took his hand and he smiled, with an understanding in his eyes. He understood, felt what I was feeling and he held my hand tightly and never let go, even when the rain poured heavily down on us, the rain of blood.' She finished, eyes growing heavy as she peered up at him, watchful for a response, a reaction, wise words he at times offered to her.

Silence. Complete silence.

He only nodded slowly with what could be considered confirmation. His green eyes were frozen, and she could only shut her own, to allow them rest, but also to pretend she had not regarded how shaken he was by what she'd disclosed to him.

8***8

Dettlaff ... She had dreamed of him before ... She had met him before ... In those dreams, the dreams of which she had forgotton with time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: The Key**

Relief, ease … A light and strong sensation enraptured Aubrey and her mind as she gently stroked her fingers through the horse's hair, listening to the cool gushes of wind, and the silence, a new silence she was unaccustomed to, now that she was not within the constraints of the dead city she once called home. She did not look back, however. She only looked forward, to the road they were travelling by, somehow seeing him … Dettlaff standing at the end of the fixed route she chose. Standing alone, drenched in a dark liquid … guilt, anger, revenge … a deep sadness. She knew deep down, this was never what he wanted.

'What do you expect to happen when-if you come to indeed encounter the Unseen Elder?' Orianna questioned, leaving Aubrey surprised at how thoughtful the woman seemed as they rode on to the orphanage. The orphanage …

Where she was found by him … Yet she had never been there before, she had no idea of what to expect. No memory of the building, the people … she was only a newborn, or perhaps just a young girl … Did she even know how old she was?

'I don't know … I suppose I will talk with him, offer him a deal-'

'You truly wish to die, why not do it in a respectable fashion, perhaps dying heroically saving your Witcher friend or that Duchess of yours.' Orianna expressed sarcastically with a cruel frown, inducing a fire inside Aubrey, of course Orianna wouldn't be affected by any of this, the woman's weakness or strength being her lack of empathy.

'Orianna! Do you believe I care for heroics? This isn't some kind of joke, this is a real city, not a fictional story of heroes, sacrifice and happy endings! I don't want to die, I want to help! But if this is the only way, so be it…' Aubrey shouted, her voice lingering in the stiff air, enticing a wide-eyed glare from the red-haired vampire.

'Then I shall give you the key, and hope that you live to give it back to me.'

8***8

The warmth of a setting sun lingered down on her skin, like a comforting blanket as she journeyed through the gardens collecting stems and single branches of a variety of plants and herbs, prominently Purple living bone, helpful when concocted with conynhaela, Regis would be appreciative of such ingredients, Aubrey disclosed in the safety of her mind. A smile conjured onto her lips, an excitement bubbled in her chest, a butterfly fluttered like mad in her stomach. How could dropping off a few herbs be so exhilarating?

No, it wasn't that at all, she had something else on her mind… something maybe a little trivial she thought amused.

Heading in the direction of his room, she hummed pleasantly to a soft music close by to her, a flute she recognised gladly, strolling with steps that resonated with the rhythm of the woodwind instrument. The tune was uplifting, filled with love and hope, it was warm and eager. Just as she felt ...

Every now and then, she paused in her steps, staring out to the evening sky from within the palace, thinking over her words and plan, thoroughly overanalysing every outcome that could evolve from her every choice of words.

'Oh hell …' A silent murmur fell from her lips like water as she found herself at his door … The door she held a key too, a spare key he had given her with trust, allowing her access to his many scrolls and books he brought with him, as they shared many interests. The more she thought over it, the more confidence arose within her heart; the smiles, the glances, the laughs, the soft touches of his hand … Even Milva noticed the glances he often gave her, Geralt, at times gifted her a suspicious smile whenever a similar occasion, interaction occurred. They weren't just accidents or coincidences … no, they couldn't be, she felt in her stomach, no in her heart that he might feel the same way. There was that glimmer of hope shining through the clouds, there always was hope. It was now or never.

Stooping forward, leaning into the door taller than her, she raised her fist, closing in on the smooth wood glistening with veneer, this was it, a heavy breath lunged from her throat as she knocked the edge of her fist, gently, against the door, quick and to the point like the fast pace of her beating heart. A tremor of movement and sound stalled that beating heart… was it herself or him behind that door? She couldn't tell, but she found herself waiting patiently for it to open.

She noted a small moth floating by her head a few times, acknowledged the flutter but for the most part, focused on the mahogany, the intense colour of the door.

A few minutes went by, or were they seconds? She couldn't tell, time wasn't on her side at this moment, she was too entranced with the hope of him opening the door … Him, his soft voice, kind face and dark eyes. To most he was just a kind-hearted man, friendly and intelligent, a conversationalist, charismatic even, but to her he was so much more, charming, mysterious and sensual, a Higher vampire … her hands shook quietly at her sides, as she hoped and hoped he would answer the door, that he would be there.

Silence.

He wasn't there. The hope deflated quietly and slowly, however it didn't stop her from grasping the key on her hip. She might as well drop off the ingredients anyway. The metal jingled in her hand like bells, sweetly like song. It clicked in smoothly, the lock twisting, working perfectly. She placed the palm of her hand onto the smooth surface of the door, the creaking and aching of the hinges causing her eyes to squint slightly … but it was the loud cry from inside that shocked her into falling forward, straight into the door slamming it open completely, the setting sun igniting its rays on the interior of his room.

She stood frozen, unable to move or her tear her eyes from them … them?

It didn't register as quick as she wished it would, no it only communicated to her at the last minute … that last second as time hastily unfroze, his back, his naked back was no longer facing her, no longer was he on top of the woman, forcing into her … no, he was staring at her …. He was staring at Aubrey.

Their eyes met, his eyes wide and angry, furious even, yet … at the last second, before she broke that stare, she saw regret in those same furious eyes. Aubrey stumbled, peered down, imagined anything else but where she was, what she saw, attempting to block the noise of his heavy breathing, the woman's dying out grunts and moans, the way that same beautiful woman held him tight to her body... Stop.

She wandered promptly and rapidly to the nearest desk or table, a dresser even, she did not know for sure, for she didn't lift her eyes from the marble flooring one moment as she placed the herbal plants on the furniture and whispered … 'I'm sorry.'

Then, she ran, ran as if a wolf chased her with a growl fierce and rabid, sprinting like her life depended on it, jumping over misplaced patches of soil and flora, pushing past those who walked silently and peacefully only to be interrupted by her speeding form … The heat burned through her, she couldn't tell if it were the sun, no it couldn't be, it must have been the embarrassment, the anxiety, the sick feeling, the guilt … or perhaps her own broken heart.

She only realised there were tears on her face when she glanced in the mirror of her bedroom, standing frozen still, heaving erratic breaths and sobs. She glared into her own eyes, questioning why she believed he would wait for her to announce her true feelings, why he would even return those feelings in the first place. She challenged herself, challenged her ideas and hopes, as she witnessed an awareness in her naïve eyes … He didn't need her, and she didn't need him.

This wasn't about her … it wasn't about what she wanted, no, it was about friendship, she would meet with him tomorrow and apologise for her intrusion on his private life, and she would never mention it to him again, wouldn't mention it to herself again, she would forget what she saw. That's what Regis deserved, he deserved a **friend** who would appreciate his choices, his life and let him live the way he wished. She nodded to herself in agreement, violently wiping away the tears that continued to drown her face … This was for the best …

8***8

… It was never about her … Deep down, she knew indefinitely that although she felt it hurt, pain her personally, she was but a small spec in all this. No matter how hard she tried to extract herself from the orphanage, the children … the dead city, her Father, Dettlaff, Regis … she couldn't. This was her vendetta against death, this would be her revenge on what has been taken from her, and what she didn't accept in return … this was to be her vengeance for the past … she just hoped she would live to see the aftermath, to see if it worked out as she anticipated. She was selfish … yet selfless, she just wanted it all to be over, all this mess, she just wanted it –

'- back to how it was.' Aubrey finished her silent monologue aloud, gazing motionlessly at the large mass of rock ahead of her, just right there, as she held the stone, the key to enter in hand, just as paralysed by her side. All she had to do was raise that single hand … and walk into the cave … but, she was stiff with fear and regret. There was so much conflict within her, would it work? What would the Unseen Elder do once he saw her, sensed her … found her even, would he even listen if she tried to convince him? What was she going to convince him of? To order the vampires away from the City? Her lips quivered and eyes blurred behind tears, or was it the rain? She couldn't tell, but she could hear the distant alarm from the city chiming, the mellow beat of her heart and uneven breathing through her nose.

And she imagined him … Her Father, as he left her that warm day, as he left her standing alone with no answer or understanding of why he left her. His last words to her: If only you weren't so determined … but that's why I love you.

'And that's why I'm doing this.' She said faintly, hesitantly elevating her left hand to the pouring sky, the Witcher medallion rattling powerfully under a luminous orange light, like a candle's fire. Swallowing her fear, she moved forward as the stone hoisted itself from the wet and squishy soil … It was now or never she smiled mildly, cautiously walking inside the dark interior of a hidden cave system. Somehow it felt much colder, much more sinister, much more silent, like there was no life within.

Aubrey gasped at times, as she soon mindlessly began strolling the beginning of the cave, lost in her own world as she studied the beauty of the strange onset of unusual architecture, scraping her hands along the walls, admiring the rough exterior of stone, glancing carefully at the murals that every so often appeared. Reaching a ledge, she missed the distinct sound, that distinct sound of something alive. She absently climbed the ledge with no caution whatsoever, only focused on the new light shining bright at her, a candle seducing her to follow with no worry …

Its hiss was more comparable to a snort or growl, a grotesque slurping noise, its eyes like blood, deep red and unmistakable, beady and ogling her form like a predator after its prey, but as she stood frigid and ice-cold, arms protecting her face and chest, it just stared at her, eyeing her from the shadowed corner of the cave. Not moving once … whatever it was it only stared and hissed … She analysed it through the gap of her arms, how?

'Are you the Unseen Elder?' She asked dumbly, even through the horror, she felt embarrassed, ridiculous at her question … and the silent answer. It couldn't be the elder, there was something too animalistic about this creature, primitive.

She was drenched in her own dried blood, and she sensed, heard its sniffing and hungry growl, yet it restrained itself from attacking.

She took this as outlandish, remarkable even, but didn't hesitate one second to run, to sprint away from that dark area, straight into the light, which turned out to be a lantern, the warmth and safety of its brightness withdrew some of the cruel fear and terror, but did not disperse all of it, for she still had to meet with the Elder, the vampire supposedly outright from this other dimension, this other world … perhaps he was waiting for something? Well, she would soon find out, she thought to herself, somehow comforting the despair.

Continuing on her way, taking sly attempts at forgetting that strange creature from before, she stumbled and tripped her way around the cave system, it was too silent at times, her own steps and exhaling of air muting itself from her ears. She found herself confused, disorientated at times, nearly losing herself but somehow finding her way again … she began to really, completely regret her choice until finally coming upon a stair case … to a grand entrance, to an opening of pure royalty and formality, even though it was almost clear of jewels and chandeliers, it felt respected … adorning light from lanterns.

'He must be here.' She whispered in a failed attempt at calming herself from the tense silence, taking slow and purposeful steps down the slabs of stone, managing to make little to no noise as she found herself in awe of her surroundings.

Now or never Aubrey …

'Hel-Hello.' She said in an effortless murmur, a sad attempt at shouting the greeting, the fear of the unknown stopped her from that yell … the dim corners of the entrance stopping her, that ticking, that clicking sound stopping her as it echoed, rebounded across seen and unseen walls.

'Please, I know you're here …'

Nothing, she spun on her feet, panicking, she ran from left to right, looking for something, anything, her eyes wide, ready for what was to come. Water splashed under her feet as she sprinted from one length to the other, and then she halted … Shhhhhhhh.

Shhhh, the mangling of air hit her neck … But as she rotated in a clumsy act, nothing was behind her.

'Please! I need your help!' She shouted in one last act, hands no longer numb, body loose and free of the tension, she breathed heavily, chest pulsating up and down, like a tremor exploited her nerves.

Something cold, brisk and sharp … something so empty of life and warmth, yet fuming with energy circled her wrist. It tightened around her skin; squeezing … she fell frozen to the terror, stuck in place, she felt tense in every possible way, sensing the hand elevate her own closer to something … A disorientation of air, sniffing … Then, something wet … sharp-

'No!' She shouted in shock and insincere pain, spinning from the being with an unbalanced swing of her legs, retracting her wrist from his mouth that now contained stains of her blood. She let out a mangled gasp, the gasp was meant to be a scream but it destroyed itself before leaving her throat. Aubrey, stood in shock, not fear, but plain shock by the creature … no man, in front of her as he licked his chapped, dried lips. Was he even alive? His appearance suggested he had been dead for a decade, somehow keeping from decay yet aging like her, a human.

He watched her as the blood, her blood ran down his jaw and chin like rain, and she watched him back, not understanding how to speak anymore.

'Victor … Victor said you'd come. He said you'd find me one day … '

8***8

 _Thank you so much for reading chapter 12! Next chapter will be up very shortly I hope!_

 _Also to let you know, if you would like to read it, I've started and uploaded a new Witcher Fanfic. It's an Iorveth fanfiction, so if you really like him (I know I do hahaha He's awesome) and fanfiction involving him, don't hesitate to check it out! :)_


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